


June

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: A Year of Writing [6]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha Thorin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Omega Bilbo, Omega Verse, Polyamory, Soulmates, Wingfic, Wings, Young Bilbo Baggins, Young Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 21,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Bilbo drift towards each other, no matter the time or place, as though gravity was created just to keep them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home Is Where The Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo waits for his family to come home for lunch.

The community Bilbo lived in was small, and peaceful. It was a dreary kind of place that moved slowly and appreciated all the little things in life, like the warmth of mid-morning sunshine coming in through the tall oak trees that littered every street in the town, and the way a good book feels in the hands of a loving owner.

No one ever got mad, in this town, not even when traffic on the main road got backed up for half-an-hour because one person had stopped for the family of ducks that often crossed from one street side to the other.

As a writer, Bilbo greatly appreciated the atmosphere. It was calming, and inspiring, and there was always something new happening. It wasn't strange for him to go wandering through the woods, or to go down to the Brandywine Creek for the day. 

The clean environment was good for his nephew, Frodo, was well. Because of Frodo's asthma, the clear air was more soothing to his lungs than city smog would be. 

Bilbo sighed to himself as he set about preparing lunch for his boys. Technically, Kili and Fili were Thorin's boys, but he thought of them more as his children than not, nowadays, even if they were rather mischievous. 

Thorin should be back with all three of them, any time now. He'd taken them to a school fete that Fili's grade was holding - there was a petting zoo that Frodo wanted to see, and of course all the food enticed Bilbo's hungry little nephew. Never underestimate how much a Baggins's admires food, Bilbo thought.

Still, Bilbo had made Thorin promise to moderate how much Frodo ate. The poor thing would spoil his lunch, after all. 

Once Bilbo had made enough sandwiches to probably sate the five of them, he set them on the table and placed out five glasses and a jug of lemonade. His mother had taught him how to make it when he was younger, from the lemons on the trees that grew in their backyard. Kili quite liked it, Bilbo was proud to say.

It was only a minute or two later when Bilbo heard the tell-tale sounds of his family arriving home. He untied the apron from around his waist, and hung it upon on its designated hook before wandering out into the entrance hall.

Frodo spotted him first, and with a cry of joy he ran for Bilbo's opened arms. "Uncle!" He cried, grinning so wide that little dimples appeared on his cheeks. "There were _chickens!"_

"Chickens, were there?" Bilbo heaved the child up into his arms, and smiled.

"Mmm! They were so white and fluffy!" Frodo giggled to himself, gripping fistfuls of Bilbo's sweater in excitement. "And there was an alp- apla- _alpaca_ too!"

"Wow!" Bilbo cooed at him. "You'd best go wash your hands then! I've made you all lunch."

Frodo's grin widened at the mention of food, and as soon as Bilbo put him down he was off running for the bathroom. After greeting Kili and Fili, Bilbo sent them in the same direction, before allowing himself to be swept up in Thorin's arms.

"Ah, I'm tired." Thorin sighs into Bilbo's curls, gripping his hips tightly. 

"Did you have fun today, love?" Bilbo kisses his cheek as he leads Thorin into the kitchen. 

"A lot." Thorin admits. "Kili really loved the Ferris Wheel."

"Of course he did." Bilbo chuckles, watching as Thorin diligently washed his hands before joining Bilbo at the dining table to wait for the children. 

"Thanks for this." Thorin gestures towards the sandwiches and lemonade with a charming grin. "I see you've made everyone's favourites."

Bilbo grins too - he had, and he had even cut them all into triangles. He loved the homely feeling of it all, it set his heart aflutter. There was nothing more that he enjoyed doing, other than making his family happy. 

"What would you do without me?" He teases, laughing when Thorin draws his chair closer to nuzzle Bilbo's cheek.

"Surely, we'd all starve." Thorin says, kissing Bilbo once, then twice, before drawing away. "Knowing my ability to cook."

Bilbo snickers. "Or lack thereof."

Thorin rolls his eyes, and pinches Bilbo's hip a little. "Shush, you."

Bilbo just laughs, but accepts the kiss that Thorin presses to his lips.

And if the children can back in and made any protests at the public affection, he just continued laughing.


	2. Late Night Customer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo works at a late-night diner. 
> 
> Thorin is a regular customer.

Bilbo worked at a twenty-four-hour diner. It was just a job on the side, to garner a little extra money for the week. He didn't mind having an odd sleeping schedule for half the week, because he still got home before the sun came up and his shift wasn't all too difficult.

Only a few people came in during the dead of the night. People who were on the road and looking for food, people on late-night food runs for half-drunk friends or pregnant partners (the latter of which has happened quite a few times; apparently the potato scallops were to die for), people who thought they were vampires (also happened frequently) and the odd person who had a brain that was all but mush from a startling long day of work.

Thorin was one of those people. He came in so often, every Tuesday and Thursday night like clockwork, that Bilbo thought they had become rather close. 

He was rather handsome, too, even when he looked exhausted. Thick, dark hair, a strong nose, broad shoulders, bright blue eyes... Really, it was difficult to look at him without feeling vaguely guilty.

Thorin always ordered the same thing, so Bilbo generally had it ready for him when he stumbled in and slumped against his preferred spot against the counter, sitting on one of the vaguely uncomfortable stools.

"Hello there." Bilbo greets as Thorin wanders in one night, fingers tugging at the tie around his throat. "Here, have a cup of tea."

Along the way Bilbo had convinced him to stop drinking coffee so late at night, and instead to try a more relaxing, herbal tea. Thorin was quite surprised he liked it so much, and often asked for recommendations from Bilbo as to what he should try next. 

Thorin mumbled something at him around a yawn. "Hey, Bilbo." He eventually says as he pulled his tea and sandwich closer. "Thanks."

"Not a problem." Bilbo answers, leaning against the counter. "How was your day?"

"Long." Thorin frowns. "So many idiots making so many mistakes... I hate having to clean up after them."

Bilbo reaches across the counter to pat his hand gently. "Poor thing." He says. "Still, sounds like you've been productive."

Thorin offers him a small, thankful smile. "I suppose so." He replies as he takes a bite from the sandwich, looking a little more pleased then when he had come in. "And how was your day? Well, night."

"Slow." Bilbo shrugs. "Always is. Had a teenage couple come in - they were really nice, actually - and then an elder couple came in, accompanied by a group of their friends... they weren't so nice, and left pretty quickly. Oh! There was a guy that came in dressed in all black and studs and leather. I think he was a punk... or something."

Thorin chuckles. "I would think so."

Bilbo grins. "But earlier today, at my day job, I had another appointment with the _bridezilla."_

Thorin perks a brow. 

Bilbo grins again. "You wouldn't _believe_ what she said today." 

"Oh, _do_ tell."

 

Bilbo trailed Thorin to the door, like he always did, to make sure he got to his car alright. The tea generally woke him up a bit, but Bilbo just wanted to be certain he was okay. 

"Have a goodnight." Bilbo says, smiling up at Thorin.

Thorin peers at him for a moment, before glancing away, a little flushed. "Do you want to go out sometime?" He asks. "Like a date."

Bilbo eyes widen, and he is sure his face turns as red as a tomato, right up to the tips of his ears. "Y-yes." He says, nodding frantically. "I would like that."

Thorin gives him a charming, albeit slightly sleepy smile. "Great."


	3. Past Tense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin are time-travelling agents - sometimes, they aren't even in the same century, but they manage to make it work.

Bilbo sighed as he waited in the entrance hall for Thorin, of whom was rather late.

The building he waited in was called Middle Earth, primarily because it tended to be the centre of all time-continuums. It was Victorian Romanesque in style, with a prodigal amount of detail and a vast amount of columns and arches. It was rich in taste, with glittering chandeliers, a giant, gold-gilded clock hanging from a central dome consisting of an interior glass dome and a copper-sheathed exterior, and long, arching skylights to match the rows and rows of windows. The interior styling was impeccable - comfortable chaise lounges, mahogany tables with wrought-iron drawer handlers, expensive upholstery... It really set the scene, to say the least. 

Of course, Middle Earth was not a place where one should stay for too long. It was designed to be a sort of "drop off" area, where an agent could rest, recharge, and receive their next task.

Bilbo sighed to himself once more, absently running his hand down the arm of his bespoke suit. It hadn't been damaged, this time round, which Bilbo was frightfully thankful for. Tailoring these suits was just a handful and a half, and if Bilbo was completely honest, he _disliked_ doing it.

Eventually, the door to the waiting room opened and Thorin stumbled in.

Bilbo rose to his feet off of the wide lounge, vacating his warm spot, to bring Thorin into his arms. "You're looking rather worse for wear, darling."

Thorin huffs into his curls, very ungentlemanly like, and allows himself to be led to the couch. "Had a bit of trouble with the Minister in Nineteen-Sixty-Eight. Was very unsure of me, you know. Do I look that intimidating?"

Bilbo chuckled, brushing Thorin's hair away from his forehead. "I'm not putting my foot in my mouth with that question." He says instead, as he lets his eyes wander over Thorin's suit. "I see you'll be in need some tailoring to be done." 

And he most certainly did - there were singe marks and what appeared suspiciously like gunpowder smudges. Not to mention the god-awful creasing and the _tear_ in the shoulder seam. Bilbo dreaded having to fix the thing.

"When is our next mission?" Thorin asks.

Bilbo feels a kick of protectiveness flood through him. Thorin sounded so tired, absolutely exhausted, and it made Bilbo a little angry at Gandalf for scheduling his missions back-to-back, right after completing one with Bilbo then having to go another one without him. They were meant to be a _team,_ not individual agents.

Instead of running off to argue with Gandalf, Bilbo gives Thorin a comforting smile and coaxes Thorin to stand. "Nonsense, we're going to rest and have your suit repaired." Bilbo says. "Give me your hourglass."

He holds out his hand expectantly, and almost a little reluctantly, Thorin hands over the little golden device that makes their time-travelling feasible. 

Thorin didn't protest when Bilbo led him through Middle Earth towards the residential quarters. The person in charge of assigning rooms shied away from Bilbo's fierce gaze, knowing that if Bilbo wanted a room that he was going to get one. They wisely passed him a key, and Bilbo was on his way, leading Thorin with a possessive hand on the small of his back.

Bilbo didn't like when Gandalf overworked Thorin. The man was an excellent agent, one of the best with a good grasp on time travel, and Bilbo hated being separated from him.  
Thorin was good at the physical aspects of being an agent, but Bilbo was good at negotiating - they made an excellent team, whether Gandalf paired them up or not.

The room was just as exuberant and luxurious as the rest of the building. Bilbo left Thorin to bathe himself and changed into his sleep clothes, ready for bed. He hadn't done anything in the last day as he waited for Thorin - there had been no missions that immediately required their attention. 

Thorin emerged some time later, skin pink from the hot water and hair still somewhat damp. He yawned and stretched and climbed into bed, looking more relaxed than Bilbo had seen him in a while.

"I believe we're going to Sixteen-Thirty-Seven tomorrow, so get some rest." Bilbo presses a kiss to his forehead, and allows Thorin to yank him down into a tight embrace, as though he were Thorin's personal, heated pillow. "Just for a simple mission - we have to pick up a document."

Thorin hums, and settles against him heavily. "Goodnight, my dear." He murmurs. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

Bilbo chuckles. "We've been a part for a day."

"Feels like centuries."

Bilbo smiles faintly, recognising the words between the lines. "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by IcyCrystal~ Not quite sure if this is the same version of "time travel" you had in mind, but this is all I could think of ^^"


	4. The Hands Of Someone You Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hands were like maps.

A person's hands spoke of secrets like none other. 

Bitten nails, callouses, cuts and scars... Ridges and bumps and valleys and hills and marks, freckles and veins and wrinkles... Hands were like maps, individualistic and unique, like they could lead someone to the place they wanted to be. It hardly made sense, and yet it _did_ because hands could hold so _much._

And they had the power to let go.

But he couldn't let go of Thorin's hand. Their fingers were twisted together, knuckles white from strain, palms damp. He couldn't stop sniffling, face scrunched, as their hands swam before his eyes.

_"I don't know what to do." I don't know what to do!_

"It's okay." Thorin soothed. "It's okay, there's nothing wrong with that."

It felt like there was, there was always something wrong, something just out of the reach of his fingertips, and there was no way for him to grasp it. 

He bit his lip harder, feeling it swollen and still unbroken beneath his insistent teeth. The inside of his cheek was stinging, and his eyes were hot and bloodshot, red-rimmed and aching. He had so many words stuffed full in his head that he was sure it would burst any moment now.

Thorin gripped his hands tighter, tracing the pad of his thumb up the length of a finger, across a knuckle, back again. It was repetitive - falsely soothing, something to watch, something to focus on. Tactile stimulation was good. It was distracting.

It generally worked.

Somehow, he felt like he could breathe again.


	5. Maps Aligning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbits are born with maps flowing across their skin, leading them to places and people they're destined to meet.
> 
> Bilbo's always had a rather extraordinary amount of mapping covering his body, stretching to places far out of the reach of the Shire.

Bilbo was used to getting a lot of stares. Even amongst Hobbits, his skin was somewhat... odd.

Yavanna had made Hobbits to act as maps - mostly charting the roads of the heart, and such, but generally the marks that flittered across a Hobbit's skin didn't stray farther than the chest and arms. 

Bilbo's tended to wander around his entire body. The marks were odd, too - runes and depictions of hills and rivers and lakes like one would see on an actual, paper map. He often sat in his armchair, tracing the mountain ranges along his arms and the rivers that flowed across his chest.

It was certainly odd, and unlike any other map Bilbo had seen. His parent's maps had been succinct, straight to the point - they led to each other, Bag-End, and eventually to wherever Bilbo wandered as a child. 

For a while, Bilbo hated having the marks he did. He wished he had a map that led to some lass in the Shire, and that he would have a home under a hill near the river and a family of one or maybe two Fauntlings... 

Of course, he eventually started thinking that his maps were beautiful. They spoke of places no other Hobbit would ever see, and of people no other Hobbit would ever meet... He craved the adventure, craved the newness and excitement of wherever his maps would lead him.

Of course, he didn't expect his destination to suddenly show up on his doorstep with a company of gruff Dwarves and a rather large chip on his shoulder.

_A grocer!_

Bilbo wanted to throw his arms up into the air in frustration. Thorin was the rudest, sternest, most irritating person he'd ever met and he was instantly _infatuated._ It was eerily ridiculous, truthfully, and Bilbo was not amused.

Of course, he eventually became amused by Thorin. He was somewhat gentle under his hard exterior - Bilbo noticed his affection for his nephews, first, and then his courage and loyalty when it came to his people. It was very admirable, _Thorin_ was very admirable.

A lot of things happened on the journey Bilbo was swept into. He never told the Dwarves of his maps - he doubted they'd understand, and he wasn't often in the mood to explain something that seemed so basic to him. 

He knew it would come up eventually. Even though he was covered from wrists to ankles in clothing, the maps often flittered across his palms and up the curve of his neck, and there was the problem of bathing and changing clothes, as well.

He just hadn't expected Thorin to see them first, is all. 

He'd been getting changed, away from the Dwarves, as he usually did. Most of the Dwarves were doing the same, at this point in time - their clothes were filthy from travel, and they'd stopped by a stream big enough to quickly wash off the dust. He'd been minding his own business, pulling his damaged waistcoat and shirt from his body, not really doing anything conspicuous. 

He thought the reason Thorin was able to sneak up on him was because he was distracted. Every time he got a proper glimpse at himself, the marks had changed, because they were travelling further and further each day. They'd follow Thorin, and eventually narrow down to a single place, much like his mother's had narrowed down onto Bag-End and the Shire after she'd had Bilbo and settled in with his father.

Still, the marks intrigued Bilbo. He ran his fingers across his arm, turning it, watching the stream course across his skin like it did the landscape no more than a hundred metres from where he stood. It was riveting to watch, like ink spreading across paper or the way a shadow slowly moves in accordance to where the sun sits in the sky.

And then Thorin had appeared. Bilbo hadn't heard the Dwarf, hadn't noticed him at all until he heard the sound of leaves ruffling.

He stood there, eyes glued to Bilbo's back were black marks mapped out the journey they were taking, as clear as day, and didn't say a word. 

"Thorin!" Bilbo flushed, deeply embarrassed as he snatched up his clothing and hastily pulled it over himself. "What are you doing here?"

"You were taking a long time. It's dark." Thorin's eyes hadn't left his torso, despite his skin now being hidden from view. "Were those tattoos?"

Bilbo flushed darker, feeling the urge to cover himself up double. "No." He said. 

Thorin eyed him, before turning away. "Hurry up." He finally said. 

Bilbo had never felt so relieved, and so utterly confused, as he followed Thorin back to camp and not another word is spoken.

 

He probably should have expected Thorin's curiosity. While he never said anything, he _stared._ He watched Bilbo so much that Bilbo constantly felt flushed and fidgety.

Bilbo was undeniably attracted to him. Somewhere along the way, he was sure he fell in love. It was what Yavanna had planned for him, after all. He got along well with Thorin, too, when they often spoke at night during Thorin's watch shifts and when Bilbo couldn't rest due to a multitude of environmental reasons. 

After the Gold Sickness, and the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo remained in Erebor. It felt wrong to leave, when Thorin and his heirs were injured and still fairly close to death's door. 

He stayed by Thorin's bedside a lot. The maps on his skin where starting to change into the halls of Erebor, and to the surrounding terrain. He hardly ever got lost, much to the surprise of the Dwarves.

Bilbo, ironically, was asleep when Thorin woke. It was hot in the room with the fireplace at full capacity, so Bilbo had discarded his waistcoat in favour of a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and suspenders. He'd been slumped across the bed, wary of Thorin's prone form, and had drifted into unconsciousness without really realising he'd shut his eyes.

Thorin traced the lines on his exposed arms to wake him. The touch was gentle, calming, and for a moment he didn't know what it was.

"Thorin? You're awake!" He exclaimed sleepily, lifting his head from the bed.

Thorin hummed, looking thoroughly exhausted. "What are these?" He asked, voice croaky with misuse.

Bilbo breathed out carefully, pushing himself upright. He drew his arms away from Thorin, turning them upwards so he could see the corridors and doorways spanning across his inner arms.

"It's a map." Bilbo finally said. "All Hobbits have them, but I just have a little... a lot extra. They chart the places we've been, the places we're meant to go to... the people we're meant to find. It's rather helpful, sometimes."

"They move." Thorin said. "I've seen it."

"They do." Bilbo agreed. "Because we ourselves move. My father used to tell me that my mother's were all over the place before they paired together, that she would disappear on these adventures into the woods around the Shire and was never in the same place for too long. After they settled down, her maps turned into the Shire, and started following my father. When I was born, they followed me - I never got lost, not even when I wandered into the woods, because she would always be able to find me."

"There were Dwarven runes." Thorin said. "On your back."

"Is that what they are?" Bilbo said, leaning back to observe the marks on his skin absentmindedly. "I've always wondered. Could you read them?"

"Show me."

Bilbo frowned. "I'm not quite sure where they are anymore."

Still, he turned around and tried not to squirm too much when Thorin lifted up the back of his shirt. 

"They're here." Thorin said, trailing his fingers across Bilbo's skin. "I don't think I can translate it perfectly... It's something my mother used to tell me."

Bilbo doesn't say anything - he didn't know what to tell Thorin.

"I don't think anyone outside of my siblings know this saying." He said. "Essentially, it says to trust in the path you carve for yourself, and to always treasure the ones you love."

Bilbo tried not to shiver, but it's difficult. "I'm sorry." He said, though he doesn't know what he's apologising for.

"You said that they lead you to the people you're meant to find." Thorin said, flattening his palm against Bilbo's back. "What does that mean?"

"W-well, it depends on the person, I suppose." He muttered. _It depends on what you want from me... what you want with me._ "It led my father to my mother."

Thorin hummed in reply, and trailed his fingers upwards, pushing Bilbo's shirt up further. Bilbo couldn't hold back the shiver this time, and clenched his fists tightly. "There are more runes here." Thorin told him. 

"More...?"

"They say my name."

Bilbo flushed darkly. "Sorry... I'm sorry..." He whispered.

Thorin let out a huffing breath, and gripped the back of Bilbo's shirt to pull him down onto the bed. Bilbo cried out in surprise, and found himself pinned to Thorin's side with a heavy arm pressed against his chest.

He tilted his head back, eyes wide, to stare up at Thorin.

Thorin closed his eyes, looking as though he wished to return to sleep, and for some reason it comforted Bilbo, who began to relax into the sheets.

"It's not a bad thing." Thorin finally mumbled.

Bilbo smiled tentatively.


	6. Maps Aligning Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's maps were changing, fluctuating - maybe it was homesickness. 
> 
> Still, Thorin was utterly fascinated.

It was difficult to adjust to a life in Erebor, where the sun didn't reach through the walls of the mountain and where he was the smallest creature to wander the halls. He had to learn to sleep peacefully in a new bed, cook different sorts of food in a new kitchen, communicate with a whole new set of people.

And oh how Dwarves were _different._

It wasn't just outer, physical appearances. Everything about Hobbits and Dwarves were different, even minutely so. Value systems, morals, cultural beliefs and practices, appetites and nutritional needs... 

Not to mention Dwarves didn't have maps, not like Hobbits. They didn't have anything guiding them, anything telling them who to find - no set, determined path to lead them to their destination. It was very frightening, to Bilbo, who had only ever known the maps on his skin.

His relationship with Thorin was something that developed slowly. After being nursed back to health by the Dwarven healers, Thorin was thrust onto the throne to take on a political role of substantial importance. 

For a while, Bilbo spiralled into a short bout of aimlessness. He'd never felt so _lost._ It wasn't just because Erebor was a big place, but it was more to do with the fact that he'd been so suddenly uprooted from a life he'd always known. Settling into a place where he wasn't necessary needed, or even helpful, was very difficult to come to terms with.

Surprisingly, it was the Princes who helped him settle. They had recovered fairly well, and besides some nasty bruises and fading scars, they were just about back to normal. 

Fili and Kili were very welcoming towards him. Even though Bilbo insisted he knew his way around Erebor, they wouldn't allow him to be on his own until they'd give him the "grand tour". He placated them, and allowed them to do with him as they wished. As odd as they were, he really enjoyed spending time with them. Their tour, as it was, was still rather informative despite the fact that neither of them had ever lived in Erebor before.

Bilbo supposed that Dwarves were intuitive about these things, like he often found himself with the ways of the forests. Bilbo thought that the Princes had probably heard many great tales of Erebor, about it's wonders and what makes it fascinating. He was rather pleased that they felt inclined sharing that with him.

It made him feel more at home.

Of course, there was still the issue of his maps. He was unsure of how the Dwarves would react - Thorin seemed to understand, but the others... such a large cultural difference might not make him any more welcome that he already was. He wanted to tell them, he did, but on his own terms, and maybe not all at once.

Bilbo, however, had rather extraordinary bad luck, and when he was working in his private garden (designated to him by Thorin) with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt untucked, exposed, he didn't expect the Dwarves to come looking at him.

He'd missed lunch, apparently.

Bilbo didn't stick around long enough to figure out what they thought of the sight of their home mapped across his skin.

It was the sort of situation that left him feeling vulnerable and out of breath. He wanted to be at home, in his armchair, where it was safe and familiar and comforting.

Instead, he was huddled on an unfamiliar bed in a room with stone walls and heavy fabrics, sniffling into his shirt as he stared at the maps moving across his skin in an agitated manner.

They were fluctuating, now. Something in him felt utterly disappointed - he'd imagined that he'd have met his destination by this point in his life, settled down to enjoy the finer things. Instead, he was shivering in a cold mountain, and his relationship with Thorin was as confusing as it was intriguing. He hated feeling like he was stretched on string. 

Still, his maps were moving, stretching and bending and expanding. He watched as they travelled up and away to where his skin wasn't exposed, as if they were responding to his distress.

Maybe it was homesickness. 

"Bilbo?"

He flinched at the sound of his name, eyes widening as he jerked his sleeves down.

It was Thorin, who peered around the door with furrowed brows. "Are you alright? Fili told me you were upset."

Bilbo bit his lip harshly. It felt swollen from the worrying he'd inflicted on it. "The company... most of it anyway, they came looking for me. I missed lunch." He said quietly as he stared at his hands. Marks were flooding his palms, like the gentle flow of blood through his veins, to take the shape of valleys and hills. "They saw."

Thorin let out a sound akin to a sigh, and gently shut the door behind himself as he entered the room. He moved to sit beside Bilbo, looking at his palms with faint fascination. 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Thorin told him.

Bilbo flexed his fingers, feeling oddly like he's about to cry again. "Doesn't feel that way."

Thorin sighed again, and reached for his hand. His fingers were so much larger than Bilbo's, so much rougher, and they completely encompassed the entire span of Bilbo's hands. "Come with me." Thorin said.

Bilbo makes a questioning noise of protest, but hardly has the strength to stop Thorin from pulling him to his feet to take him from his room.

It all happened in a rush, and before Bilbo knew what was really happening, he was being thrust into Thorin's own bedchambers. It was undeniably luxurious, with a bed bigger than Bilbo had ever seen.

"What..." Bilbo drew into himself, feeling utterly self-conscious, even as Thorin guided him to the bed and prompted him to lay back, his legs dangling. Bilbo didn't know how to react, and feeling so exposed to Thorin's eyes was unnerving. 

Thorin gripped his hands as he hovered above Bilbo, knees pressed to the bed on either side of his hips. His eyes, blue like the night sky, wandered over the maps on Bilbo's skin as if he'd never seen anything like it.

He might not have.

Thorin traced his fingers over the inside of Bilbo's wrist, following the ridges in a mountain far from Erebor. Bilbo hoped he couldn't feel his pulse, even as his heart raced in his chest faster than ever before. 

Thorin traced the map up his arm, across the sensitive skin of his inner arm and under his loose shirt sleeves. He looked positively enraptured, eyes bright and focused as he transferred his attention to Bilbo's other arm. He spent just as long scrutinizing the marks there too, tracing them with his fingers all the way up under Bilbo's sleeve once more.

Eventually he ran out of places to look on Bilbo's arms, and immediately turned his attention to the bottom of Bilbo's shirt. 

Bilbo grunted quietly, face flushing in mortification even as Thorin used both his hands to gently push up the bottom of his shirt, exposing the marks across his stomach. He didn't know whether to be more embarrassed by the maps, or by his weight, and he squirmed uncomfortably. 

Even so, Thorin's palms against his skin were soft and steady. It was oddly hypnotic, the way he pressed against Bilbo's stomach ever so slightly, tentatively smoothing his hands upwards to expose more and more of Bilbo's torso.

Eventually he became somewhat satisfied with the new marks he could see, and he returned to tracing them with his fingers. It was repetitive and soothing - his touch was tantalizing, often giving Bilbo shivers that weren't unpleasant at all. He didn't even realise when Thorin had somehow managed to unbutton his shirt, to pull it away from his collarbones and neck.

It left him completely exposed from the hips up, but the way Thorin ran his palms up across Bilbo's chest and shoulders was so distracting he didn't have the mind power to feel embarrassed anymore. 

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head back far enough to extend his neck. Thorin's thumbs pressed against the dip where his throat met his shoulders, just briefly, but enough for Bilbo to know that Thorin didn't want him feeling helpless or pressured to remain where he was.

Bilbo waited, eyes shut, as Thorin took in his fill. Eventually, he started to relax under Thorin's careful caresses, the anxieties and panic of earlier slipping from him simply and easily. He felt his stomach clench for a moment when Thorin's fingers ghosted over his nipples, but they didn't linger - they followed the lines on his skin even as they changed and reformed the Lonely Mountain, and Erebor. 

"Are you homesick?" Thorin finally asked, voice quiet.

"I don't know." Bilbo answered, lost in his own head.

"The Shire will always be your home." Thorin said, tracing a line that curved up around his shoulder. "This proves it..."

Neither of them says anything for a moment.

"Erebor can be your home too." Thorin finally murmured. 

Bilbo felt his heart flutter.

Thorin traced the lines back to his chest, over his heart, where they were changing, shifting back to Erebor rather than flittering over him aimlessly. 

He cautiously lowered himself to lay beside Bilbo, mindless of his shoes and clothing. He returned his wandering hands to Bilbo's, gripping his fingers tightly. "Stay here." He said to Bilbo. 

"Why?" Bilbo asked quietly.

Thorin gripped his hand tighter, eyes lingering on Bilbo's chest. "My name... it's on your skin for a reason. I want to find out why for myself."

Bilbo's heart fluttered.

Thorin clenched his hand tighter yet again, thumb tracing over the back of his palm. "Maps were made to be read by others." Thorin whispered, shuffling closer until he could gently rest his forehead against Bilbo's head full of curls. "Let me read yours."


	7. Begging Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo can't stand it when his mates fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili/Kili/Bilbo/Thorin implied~

Bilbo sighed as he listened to Fili and Kili arguing. They quarrelled often enough, and even though their words were never harsh or critical, Bilbo still got a little unsettled.

They were just mischievous, is all. Cheeky. They were still young - younger than Bilbo, with changing hormones and a boundless supply of energy and a craving for something new and adventurous.

Fortunately, Thorin was able to control them rather easily. 

All it took was a deep rumble, or a sharp look, and the two settled and quietened back into their normal, affectionate selves. Bilbo couldn't control them like that, struggled to keep them in check when they argued and struggled to realise when they were not in fact arguing, but just playing. It was stressful, at the beginning of their mateship, and Thorin was rather displeased with the two of them for a while.

But they were impossible to stay mad at. They were attractive people, not only physically but emotionally as well. While Bilbo was originally attracted to Thorin, he could hardly stay away from the two once he found out their relation to Thorin, and their charisma drew him like a moth to a flame.

Somehow, the four of them worked.

Still, Fili and Kili's arguments tended to stress him out a little when Thorin wasn't around to deal with them.

Bilbo whined nervously as they continued to bicker. He stood in the doorway, watching as they crossed their arms at each other and bared their teeth. 

He wished Thorin would return. Thorin would know what to do.

"Fili, Kili-" He started nervously, only to flinch back when a growl threatened him away.

So they weren't playing, this time. 

Letting out a distressed whine, Bilbo turned and hurried back down the hallway towards the front door. Thorin should be back any moment know, he'd know what to do.

He waited anxiously by the door, wringing his hands, trying to ignore the growls and raised voices coming from the living room. He didn't even know what they were arguing about anymore.

Eventually he heard Thorin's car pull up. The man sometimes had to work late into the night, like tonight, and Bilbo always missed his company at dinnertime. He always cooked enough for four, and hated seeing so much leftover. It just wasn't in his nature to not have his mates around to care for, it make him feel unsettled.

Bilbo knew that Thorin could sense his unease the moment he entered the house.

"Bilbo, love- what's the matter?" Thorin asked, concerned, as he drops his coat onto the rack by the door to sweep Bilbo into his arms.

Bilbo just whined, gripping fistfuls of Thorin's shirt tightly. 

Thorin cradled the back of his head, a comforting rumble echoing from his chest.

The voices from the living room rose again, and Thorin glanced up with a deeper growl. "How long have they been arguing?"

Bilbo shrugged shakily, pressing harder against Thorin, even as his Alpha smoothed a soothing hand down his back.

"Go wait in the bedroom, alright love?" Thorin presses a comforting kiss to his forehead and gestures for him to move. Bilbo didn't like the feeling of separation he got when he left the safe circle of Thorin's arms, but he goes to follow the instruction anyway. He knows that Thorin never tells him to do anything that wouldn't be in his best interest, and it was probably for the best that he didn't witness Thorin breaking up the fight between their mates.

The nature of dominance in Alpha's was very different to Omega's, after all. Bilbo felt uncomfortable during situations where dominance was being tested, and he found that even though he felt nervous waiting in the bedroom it was better than witnessing it. 

Bilbo felt tired as he slumped against the pillows, pressing a yawn into his fingers. He just wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but he wouldn't until the situation was resolved. 

It was quite a while later before he heard Thorin coming up the stairs towards their bedroom. 

Bilbo turned his eyes up at him imploringly.

Thorin sighed. "I've punished them." He says. "They're not allowed to sleep up here tonight. I don't mean to punish you in the process, but it's a lesson they need to learn."

Bilbo frowned. He didn't like it when all his mates weren't in their bed, but he understood Thorin's reasoning. "I'm sorry." He says.

Thorin gently cups his cheeks, thumbs moving across his skin comfortingly. "It's not your fault, my dear." He says. "They have to learn to control themselves, especially when I'm not around to do it for them. They can't be acting so brashly around you, it's not fair."

Bilbo fidgets uncomfortably. "It just..."

"It's okay if it makes you feel upset." Thorin soothes. "There's nothing wrong with that. They'll learn, Bilbo, just like you learned to deal with us."

Bilbo smiles a little. "You weren't all that difficult to live with."

"Maybe not." Thorin shrugs. "But that acceptance is in your nature. They're just rambunctious. They have to understand that to us, you will always come first, and it's our job to make sure you're healthy and happy. And there's something very wrong if we're the ones making you upset."

Bilbo reached up to grip Thorin's hands tightly. "You all with always come first to me." He says quietly.

Thorin presses another kiss to his forehead. "Lay back, try to relax. I'll be coming to bed in a minute."

"You won't eat?"

"It's alright, I'd rather sleep." Thorin says. "I'll have a big breakfast."

 _Yes you will,_ Bilbo thinks, _because I'll be making sure you do._

Bilbo slips under the covers as he waits for Thorin to complete his nightly routine. He listened carefully, and could faintly hear the sound of Fili and Kili settling downstairs. He felt guilty, but he wouldn't deny Thorin's punishments. 

"I told them they could come back up here at no earlier than six." Thorin says as he emerges from the bathroom and slips in beside Bilbo. "As long as they apologize, and mean it."

Bilbo cuddles into Thorin's chest, seeking his warmth. "Alright." He says. 

Thorin runs his fingers through Bilbo's curls, pressing lazy kisses across his forehead. "I'm sorry, my love."

"It's alright." Bilbo mumbles, gripping Thorin tightly. "I'm just a little..."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me." Thorin says to him. "I miss their company as well, even if Kili does press his cold toes to my back at the most inappropriate of times."

Bilbo sighs. "I wish I could quell their arguments like you do." He says. "I feel so useless when you're not around and they're getting restless."

"Oh, love." Thorin sighs. "They're just being difficult. I'm sure if you really spoke up at them they'd tremble where they stood. You're just too sweet on them."

Bilbo laughs quietly, and presses his nose under Thorin's chin affectionately. "I'm sweet on you too, you know."

Thorin tucks a finger under Bilbo's chin to tilt his head up, and kisses his mouth. "I know. Try to get some rest, hmm? I have a feeling they'll come crawling back up here as soon as six o' clock arrives." Thorin says as he leans across to turn off the lamp. "I love you."

"Love you too." Bilbo says around a yawn, blindly seeking out a last kiss that Thorin obligingly gives him before settling into his arms for a long night's rest.

 

Bilbo whimpered and grumbled when a cold hand tentatively touched his shoulder.

"Bilbo?" Someone asked in a small voice that had his heart lurching. "Bilbo, we're sorry..."

"We didn't mean to upset you." Another adds.

Bilbo rolled over to face them, rubbing at his eyes for a moment. It was still dark out, but the glowing clock numbers told him it was one minute past six. 

Fili and Kili where pressed against the side of the bed, looking cold and miserable. They leaned across the covers, careful not to disturb them, to get as close as they possibly could without actually being on the bed.

"Bilbo we didn't mean it." Kili whimpers, curled as tightly as he could against Fili's side in an attempt to stave off the cold. "I'm sorry."

Fili pulls his younger sibling closer, and seeing them so affectionate once more made Bilbo feel a little warmer. "Can you forgive us?" Fili asks quietly, somewhat more composed that his brother. "We never meant to upset you, it was irresponsible and cruel of us to argue like that in front of you. I'm so sorry..."

Bilbo didn't like hearing them apologize, it felt wrong. He reached out an arm, shivering at the cold, to press his hand against Kili's cheek and urge them onto the bed. 

It only took them a moment to scramble under the covers, pressing and prodding to find a warm spot against Bilbo. Eventually Kili settled chest-to-chest with him, and Fili behind his brother, an arm stretched out to grip the both of them.

Kili's skin was cold where it touched Bilbo's, and he felt undeniably guilty as he gently rubbed the heat back into his mates. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Fili quickly leaned over to kiss him quiet.

"It's not your fault, before you apologize." Fili mumbles. "We deserved the punishment Thorin gave us. I just feel bad that it affected you as well."

"It's okay." Bilbo breathes, brows turned up in concern. 

Kili noses at the underside of his chin, but returns the nuzzle Fili presses into the back of his head. 

Feeling Thorin shift behind him, Bilbo subtly turns his head to meet Thorin's eyes questioningly. He wandered how long Thorin had been awake, but realised he'd probably woken the moment his nephews started coming up the stairs. 

Thorin presses a chaste kiss to his neck, and settles back down to sleep. His arm stays firm and heavy where it's draped across Bilbo's waist, but his fingers trace small, comforting circles into Bilbo's skin. It meant that he agreed with Bilbo allowing them into the bed, and the relief Bilbo felt at that was palatable.

"Try to get some rest." Bilbo tells them, stretching his arm across in an attempt to hold the both of them. Fili rumbles happily at his effort, appreciative of the gesture.

"Love you." Kili says quietly, as if he were still afraid of being rejected.

"I love you too." Bilbo answers. "Both of you."

Fili murmurs in agreement, pushing closer, making them all shift and settle into a new, warm arrangement.

Bilbo slept a lot more peacefully with all his mates in bed with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure about the title of this one ^___T Suggestions are welcome~
> 
> Also, if anyone has any prompts, feel free to toss them at me! I have a few stored up, but they're a little difficult to write, and I've not been very motivated lately ^^"


	8. Ducklings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo doesn't like strangers.
> 
> Thorin seems to be an exception.

Bilbo didn't take well to strangers. He frightened when they picked him up, and he trembled when he lost hold of his parent's hands when they were at the market. He was just a nervous child; quiet, but with a taste for adventure that often had him exploring the woods around Bag-End with his mother in tow.

As part of the Thain's family, it was expected of him to be present to welcome important travellers to the Shire. It hadn't happened often - mostly, it was just to welcome Gandalf, a wandering Wizard, but this time it was for something much more important.

A delegation of Dwarves had come - all the way from the Lonely Mountain!

Bilbo didn't know why, and had no inclination to find out, but he didn't want to meet them. He didn't like strangers, and making friends was hard for him. Everyone said he was silly for thinking there were Elves in the forests, and they laughed at him when he said things sometimes.

"Now, Bilbo." His mother soothed, brushing his curls away from his forehead. "There's no reason to be nervous. All we have to do is meet them, hmm? Then you can go home."

Bilbo made a noise of protest, gripping her hand tightly. 

His father, walking beside them, sighed at him affectionately. He reached down, and pulled Bilbo right up into his arms to nuzzle their noses together. "Don't worry, son. This is just another adventure, isn't it?" He smiled.

Bilbo gripped his shoulders tightly, refusing to be put down until he absolutely had to. "Wanna go home..." He mumbles, frowning. 

Bungo sighed again, pushing their cheeks together. "Such a stubborn child, aren't you?" He teases, pressing his fingers into Bilbo's stomach to make him giggle. "Just for a little, Bilbo. I'm sure you'll like the Dwarves."

Just the thought of them made him curl into himself anxiously. All the Fauntlings in the Shire had taunted him for the past week, telling him frightful stories about how Dwarves were greedy and big and liked to chase Hobbit children. 

"I hear that there is a Dwarven child coming, too." Bungo tells Bilbo. "Maybe you'll be friends."

Bilbo just frowns harder, his bottom lip trembling. "Wanna go home." He repeats.

 

Bilbo didn't really understand the talk between the adults. He trembled where he stood behind his mother, clutching her skirts in his hands. He'd already been introduced, but hadn't even said hello. He was too frightened, even though the Dwarves thought he was endearing. 

Dwarves were _tall._ Bilbo felt very intimidated, and was on the verge of tears when the adults finally began moving indoors.

"Now Bilbo," His mother started as she crouched to hold his hands gently, after lifting one to wipe away the tears in his eyes. "Do you want to play with Thorin? He's the Dwarven Prince, and I promise he's very nice. He's offered to look after you for a while, if you want." She peers at him hopefully, smiling. "You can show him around the Shire, if you want. Even the forest."

Bilbo sniffled away his tears, shrugging. 

His mother smiled at him comfortingly. "Have fun, alright baby? Thorin is a very nice boy. He was very excited to meet you."

Somehow, that made Bilbo feel a little better. His mother never lied to him, after all. 

She stood, and with a hand on the back of his head, she gently lead him over to where the Dwarven Prince was standing in front of his mother, all tall and proper.

The Dwarf was bigger than him, of course, with dark blue eyes and dark, thick hair. Bilbo could see he had strands braided, with pretty beads clasping the ends. He had a sort of stern expression, like he was angry, and it made Bilbo nervous.

"Bilbo, this is Thorin." His mother says, nudging him forwards. "Why don't you say hello?"

Bilbo whimpered, drawing his hands to his chest.

Thorin looked vaguely affronted by him, but held out a hand nevertheless. "I'm Thorin." He says. His voice was oddly nice to Bilbo, strong and boyish and confident. "It's nice to meet you."

Bilbo's hands twitched. He reached out a hand, and then the other, unsure which one to shake with. He could feel the tears coming on as his face flushed horribly in embarrassment.

Then, Thorin reached for both his hands and clasped them tightly, solving the situation. He shook their hands, before dropping them, seemingly pleased. 

Bilbo stares at him, wide-eyed. 

His mother smiles knowingly, and pats him on the head gently. "Have fun, alright? If it starts to get dark, make sure you go home, Bilbo." She tells him.

He nods shakily, wringing his fingers together. 

"Now you make sure you listen to Bilbo." Thorin's mother tells him. "And don't get lost."

Thorin scowls at her, but nods. "I won't."

After a last smile, Bilbo is left alone with Thorin. He watches his mother head off with Thorin's, and his eyes water.

Thorin stares down at him, blue eyes inquisitive. "Want to go play?" He asks.

Bilbo blinks at him, but nods. He reaches out a little hand, almost on instinct, and flushes in embarrassment, but Thorin takes his hand to hold anyway. Bilbo stares at him, and follows like a duckling, even as a smile starts to come to his face. 

 

Bilbo screeches with laughter as Thorin swings him up and over a fallen tree trunk, seemingly without effort. Even though he looked grumpy, Thorin made Bilbo very happy, and he couldn't stop laughing as soon as they were properly playing. 

"I think there are _Elves_ out here, you know." He tells Thorin, waiting for him to clamber over the log himself. "But everyone says it's not true."

"It might be." Thorin answers as he hops down, reaching for Bilbo's hand once more. 

Bilbo grins at him, not even a hint of nervousness present anymore. "Yeah!" He agrees. "I wanna meet one, but I think they'll be scay- _scary."_ He says, frowning for a minute at the pronunciation. 

"I've met Elves." Thorin says.

Bilbo gasps, eyes wide. "Really?" 

Thorin nods. "They're tall." He tells Bilbo thoughtfully. "And their hair is really long. They all look the same."

Bilbo giggles at his grouchy expression. "Are Dwarves better?" He asks.

"Of course they are!" Thorin exclaims, looking down at him again. "We're much braver."

"Okay." Bilbo smiles in agreement, leading Thorin through the forest on intuition rather than conscious thought. 

"Good. Dwarves are the best." Thorin huffs.

Bilbo giggles again. "What about Hobbits?"

"Hobbits are good too."

 

It turned dark before the adults came to collect them, so Bilbo dutifully leads Thorin up through the Shire towards Bag-End by the hand.

"Why's it called Bag-End?" Thorin asks as they carefully make their way up the steps, mindful of the dark. 

"Dunno!" Bilbo shrugs, pushing the door open with a huff of determination. "This way, Thorin!"

They made their way into the living room, and together they got the fire in the fireplace started (mostly done by Thorin, who actually knew how to stack the wood properly). 

Once the fire was started and warmth was flowing through the house, and after Bilbo had painstakingly given Thorin a tour of the winding corridors and even his own bedroom, they returned to the living room to sit on the rug with Bilbo's wooden blocks spread out between them. 

Even though Thorin was probably a little old for blocks, he played along and even smiled every time Bilbo looked up at him during his long, sort of pointless rambles about everything and anything. 

 

It was dinnertime when Belladonna finally began to head home, Dwarves and husband in tow. She worried about her little Bilbo, knowing how nervous he got around strangers. While she fully trusted Thorin to watch him, she was still concerned. 

"Bilbo, honey, we're home." She called as she left the guests to Bungo, heading straight for the living room with Thorin's mother in tow.

The sight that greeted her made her grin.

"Mama, look what we made!" Bilbo cried, grinning brightly as he reached across to grip Thorin's wrist excitedly. 

Between them, they'd made an archway and several rows of chairs and table out of Bilbo's blocks. It looked like the standard set out for a Hobbit reception party.

"Oh, and what's this about?" She asks, smiling as she crouches beside her little son. 

"We're getting married!" Bilbo declares with another childish grin, practically bouncing with energy. 

"Is that so?" Belladonna grins at him, feeling rather pleased. "And where am I sitting? I hope it's at the front!"

Bilbo giggled at her, cheeks flushed. 

She smiled one last time, and straightened up, content to let them be now that her nerves had been soothed.

"I've never seen him smile like that." She tells Thorin's mother, who was watching them with a fond smile. "He's just so nervous around strangers, but your son has brought out such a side of him. I've never seen him react so well to someone!"

The Dwarrowdam smiles at her, chuckling. "I was a little worried Thorin would be too serious for him. He's a rather grouchy boy, he is. Even though he still looks grumpy, it's considerably less grumpy than usual. Bilbo is a good influence on him."

Belladonna laughs. "I'm so glad they get along so well. Bilbo has a little trouble making friends, you see. He's never been so bubbly around anyone before."

Thorin's mother laughs. "How strange, they're such opposites! The grumpy one and the bubbly one." She grins, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Now what was that talk about a wedding?"

 

When it was time for the Dwarves to return to the home they had been lent for their stay, Bilbo didn't notice at first.

Belladonna smiled as she listened to Bilbo chatter away at her about their day, and when he turned his head to check on Thorin (as he had been doing every thirty seconds or so for the past ten minutes) he suddenly went quiet.

Belladonna felt her heart lurch when her son's face fell when he couldn't see Thorin. 

"Thorin?" He called quietly, hands pulling out of her grip as he turned to survey the room.

"Thorin's going to bed, honey." She says soothingly, frowning when Bilbo's face scrunches up into a fierce frown that she just _knew_ was the beginning of tears.

"No." Bilbo whines, turning to look up at her, absolutely tearful. "I want Thorin."

"Bilbo..." She starts, even as he turns to toddle out of the room, towards where the Dwarves were being farewelled by Bungo.

Thorin was standing away from the group, scowling just as fiercely as Bilbo until he caught sight of the little Hobbit at the end of the hall. His frown all but disappeared when Bilbo followed after him like a little duckling, reaching for his larger hands with chubby little fingers.

"Thorin? It's time to go." His mother calls, glancing back down the hallway. Belladonna gives her a weak smile, unsure what to do. She certainly didn't want Bilbo crying, and the scowl that returns to Thorin's face makes his mother cringe too. 

"Bilbo, honey, you can see him tomorrow." Belladonna reassures, coming to stand by his side. 

Bilbo sniffles, pouting furiously, and grips Thorin tighter.

Belladonna sighs. There would certainly be frustrated tears tonight. "Say goodnight, love."

Bilbo just frowns harder, turning his head away. 

Thorin, surprisingly, gives in first and hugs Bilbo. The little Fauntling seems so shocked by the action that it takes him a moment to return it, even though he quickly cuddles the Dwarfling.

"How about you invite Thorin over for breakfast, Bilbo?" Belladonna offers, glancing up to confirm with the Dwarves, who nod in agreement. 

Bilbo glances up at her, eyes wide with relief as he turns to gaze at Thorin.

He smiles a little, as much as the grumpy Dwarf could possibly smile, but Bilbo's returning grin is just too precious. 

"Alright, then." Belladonna smiles. "Say goodbye, now."

"Bye bye." Bilbo says quietly, finally drawing away from Thorin.

"Goodnight." Thorin answers. "See you tomorrow."

Bilbo nods, latching onto Belladonna's hands as he watches Thorin and his family leave. He starts to pout again, looking up at Belladonna with watery eyes.

Belladonna sighs, scooping him up into her arms. "Don't worry, baby. He'll be back tomorrow." She plants a kiss on his forehead as she carries him to his room. "Didn't I say you'd like him? He's a nice boy."

Bilbo nods, sagging with sleepiness in her arms. "Dwarves are the best." He mumbles.

Belladonna chuckles, feeling oddly like she'd missed out on something. "What about Hobbits?"

Bilbo grins against her skin, even though he yawns a little. "Hobbits are good too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by solutionforreality~


	9. Train To Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo accidentally falls asleep on the train.

Bilbo sighed as he pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to chase away the pounding between his ears. He was _exhausted._

He felt like he'd been working for days, when in reality his shifts had only been a few hours longer than usual. But coupled with the fact that he hadn't been sleeping well for the past month and a half, it was all he could do but not fall asleep where he stood.

Still, thoughts of his bed and a weekend ahead lured him home. If he could just stay awake for the train ride home...

Fortunately, it was late enough that the train wasn't too full when he stepped onto it. He found a seat beside a man who offered him a wane, but polite, smile as he seated himself. Bilbo offered something akin to a flushed smile back. The man was very handsome, he would admit, but Bilbo was much too tired to properly admire the stranger's looks.

The lull of the train moving soon had his eyes slipping shut. He held on tight to his bad, trying to keep awake, even as his head nodded every minute or so.

In fact, he was so focused on staying awake that he didn't even notice when he fell asleep.

 

Waking up was vaguely painful. His head still hurt, and it felt as though he'd only had his eyes closed for a second.

He groaned, and cringed when the light of the train hurt his eyes.

With a start, he realised that he had fallen asleep. With his head on the handsome stranger's shoulder.

And the stranger was _asleep._

Waking up now that Bilbo had moved, but _still-_

"'M sorry." Bilbo struggled with a thick tongue as he pushed himself upright, scrubbing at his eyes for a moment before blinking rapidly to clear them.

The stranger just mumbled something, blinking dark blue eyes at him. "What stop are we...?"

Collectively, they turned to look at the in-train display that showed the name of the station that where at. After staring it at for a moment, they both turned to look at each other with slightly panic-stricken eyes.

_"Shit."_

 

His name was Thorin Oakenshield, as it turned out, and they'd both missed their stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned~
> 
> Sorry that it's short, I've had a really upsetting afternoon T~T


	10. Wide Awake (Never Sleep)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Understanding that you don't understand is very painful.

Sometimes, people didn't understand other people. More than anything, Bilbo accepted this. He understood that he looked into things too much, analysed words and actions too much, thought on simple things too much...

But he also understood that sometimes, he didn't understand.

That was something important to him, the knowledge that he wouldn't, or couldn't, always understand everyone. Not many people thought in the way he did, and not many people understood things in the way he did.

Dwarves, for the most part, were very thick-headed and straight forward. They didn't dwell on matters that other races did, and could act rather harshly without the recipient taking offense. 

Dwarves were strong. There was no doubt about that. They were strong.

But not all the time, and that is what made Bilbo hurt somewhere deep in his chest.

He'd developed a soft spot a league wide for the Dwarves, especially those from the company, and especially those that were struggling with kingship and mental stress.

If anyone asked, Thorin would be the Dwarf Bilbo admired the most. He was confident, and strong, and loyal to a fault. He was handsome, and brave, and heroic. He was a good king, a good friend, and a good person.

But, like everyone else, he struggled from time to time.

Lately, Bilbo had noticed that Thorin looked tired - not just tired, but _exhausted._

And he didn't appreciate when the others, even with the best intents in mind, pressured Thorin into doing things he just wasn't ready to do.

Of course, the company, especially Dwalin, where rather shocked when he forcefully manhandled them out of Thorin's quarters with a few strong words that no one could really refute.

Thorin just watched him, eyes shadowed with sleeplessness and distress. His shoulders were hunched and tense, carrying the weight of the world, _his_ world, and Bilbo could almost see the litany of thoughts drowning in his head.

He sighed, and wandered across the room to begin pulling the royal armour Thorin was forced to wear off of his chest. It was heavy, even more so for him, and he could only imagine what it was doing to Thorin's shoulders. Thorin hardly budged as Bilbo shed his layers off of him, until he thought that Thorin was finally in clothes that were suitable for sleep. 

"Go on, get in bed." Bilbo says. He doesn't say anything when Thorin just looks at him with eyes pleading to be understood. With a hand on Thorin's arm, he gently moves him around until he's lying in the bed, head cushioned by the pillows. 

Bilbo pulls the covers up over him, watching as Thorin falls into a place just on the verge of sleep, before he turns to leave.

Thorin reaches a hand out, fervently gripping his wrist. "Stay." He rasps. "Please."

Bilbo twists his hand to grip Thorin's fingers, easing himself onto the bed. "I'll stay as long as you need." He soothes, reaching out to brush away the loose strands of hair shrouding Thorin's face. "Don't let anyone make you do something you aren't ready for, alright? If you're not comfortable doing it, and you don't want to explain yourself, then you don't have to."

Thorin offers him a wane smile.

Bilbo pats his head reassuringly. "You are who you are, Thorin, and if you're sometimes a little confused, or if you sometimes don't understand yourself, that's okay. I might not always understand, but I'll always be here if you need me. Understand?"

"Thank you." Thorin murmurs, gripping his hand tighter.

"It's alright, Thorin." Bilbo says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Thorin's forehead as he drifts closer to sleep. "You'll be alright."


	11. Under The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are better left in the dark.
> 
> Some aren't.

A knock on his dormitory door roused Bilbo from the drifting sleep he'd slipped into. He lifted his head from where it rested half against his arm and half against his desk, and swiped the stray strands of hair off of his forehead.

The knocking came again, and he huffed into thin air. 

He opened the door in the midst of rubbing an eye with a knuckle, shrouded with sleepiness and the dull pain from being hunched over for too long. 

"Bilbo, hey. Did I wake you?"

Bilbo blinked up at the man standing at his door. Thorin was dressed in comfy looking pyjamas (the shirt of which was so tight that Bilbo felt twice as awake upon looking at it), and looked as though he hadn't slept for two days.

"Not really..." Bilbo lied, trying to muffle his yawn. "What's the matter?"

Thorin frowned briefly. "My roommate-"

"The annoying one?"

"Yeah, they're throwing a party and it's been going for _hours_ and everyone is _drunk_ and I can't _sleep-"_ Thorin lets out an aggravated noise that makes Bilbo laugh a little.

"You can sleep in here, then." Bilbo says, opening the door wider.

"Thanks." Thorin sighs, padding into his room. "Were you asleep at your desk?"

"No." Bilbo says unconvincingly, even as Thorin gives him a knowing look and lifts his hand to touch the side of Bilbo's face.

"You have some funny looking indentation marks here." He points out.

Bilbo flushes, and scowls, pressing his hand against Thorin's face in return. "Well you have some funny looking _indentation marks_ right here too."

Thorin rolls his eyes, huffing out a laugh. "That's my face, Bilbo."

"Exactly. Glad you agree with me."

Thorin just shakes his head, and reaches across the desk to turn off the lamp. Bilbo startles at the sudden darkness, but Thorin's hands reach for him and together they somehow make it to his pillow-covered bed.

Bilbo feels a sort of sadness wash over him. He didn't know why, but he and Thorin were never this intimate when they could see each other. They never pressed against each other like they were now, never twined their fingers so tightly, tangled their legs, breathed so easily.

"Thorin?" Bilbo asks, voice shaky. He felt more awake than he had all night, but like he would forget this moment so easily, and that it would never be so clear to him again. "I-"

"Don't." Thorin pleads. "Don't say it..."

"But..." Bilbo bites his lip hard enough to sting, aching something fierce somewhere deep inside. "Okay."

Thorin breathes in, sounding as though he were panting, and his fingers grip Bilbo's a little tighter. "Alright." He says, hurried, out of breath, tired. "Alright."

Bilbo feels oddly confronted, even though Thorin had essentially given his permission. He was afraid, afraid of a lot of things, but mostly afraid of rejection. More than that, though, he was afraid of never being able to see what Thorin looked like just in that moment, because they'd never be out of the dark.

"I love you."

Thorin stiffens, panicking, but Bilbo keeps quiet, and somehow the tension drains from him. He rolls onto his side, pulling Bilbo close, and the warmth of his arms is vaguely claustrophobic. 

But then he sighs, a kind of accepting sort of sound that makes Bilbo glance up, even though he can't see anything.

"I think I love you too."


	12. Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little reassurance goes a long way.

Bilbo groaned as he stretched, letting out a deep sigh that had Thorin snorting.

"Want me to put on another movie?" Thorin asks when Bilbo appears to be quite done with his stretching.

Bilbo offers him a lazy grin, sinking into the couch. "Yeah." He answers, grinning when Thorin rolls his eyes but stands to comply with his offer. 

"What time are your parents getting back?" Bilbo asks, twisting to stretch out on the couch, practically purring with pleasure when he comes into contact with the warm spot Thorin vacated.

"Not for another few hours." Thorin says.

Bilbo hums, getting himself comfy. Thorin's parents didn't know they were together - didn't even know Thorin didn't have preferences when it came to gender. His younger siblings, both of whom were away for the night, knew about them, but Thorin wasn't ready to tell his parents and Bilbo respected that.

He'd tell his parents when he was ready.

As the next movie began to play, Thorin turns back to him.

"You're taking up the whole couch, treasure." He says, vaguely amused. 

Bilbo gives him a grin. "Seems so."

Thorin rolls his eyes again, but nevertheless starts to worm his way into the space between Bilbo and the back of the couch. "Shove over a little, Bilbo."

Bilbo huffs, but squirms around until Thorin is comfortable, pressed right up against him. "Better?"

Thorin nods, kissing the back of his head once. "Much."

Bilbo smiles, and rests his head on the arm Thorin slips under it. "Just be careful not to fall asleep, okay? I have a feeling I will."

Thorin nods again, squeezing him in silent thanks for the gentleness of the reminder. "I will."

 

True to his word, Bilbo fell asleep half way through the movie, cuddled up warm and comforted in Thorin's arms. 

Unfortunately, so did Thorin.

Bilbo didn't wake up when Thorin's parents arrived home, nor did he wake up when Thorin carefully extracted himself at his mother's gentle insistence. 

He did wake up, however, when Thorin reappeared to lift him from the couch.

"Thorin...?" Bilbo mumbles.

"It's just me." He whispers in reply.

"Why're you carrying me?" Bilbo asks, trying to blink away the sleep from his eyes. "'M heavy."

Thorin chuckles, but he sounds exhausted. "You're not." He tells Bilbo, even though he is. "It's not that far to my room."

Bilbo lets out a sort of whining sound, and grips Thorin's sleep shirt tightly. He always got clingy when he was tired.

"I'm here, treasure." Thorin reassures.

Bilbo frowns when he hears noises coming from the kitchen. "Your parents?"

"Mhmm."

"Did they...?"

"Mhmm."

Bilbo grips Thorin tightly. "Are you okay?"

Thorin sighs, and doesn't say anything until he's lowered Bilbo into his bed and slipped in beside him. "I'll be alright."

Bilbo lifts a hand, presses his palm against Thorin's slightly scruffy cheek. "Are you sure?" He asks, voice quiet with concern.

Thorin leans into his touch, and nods. "I love you." He whispers, voice full of insecurity and worry and all the things that make Bilbo's heart lurch right up into his throat. 

"I love you too." He whispers back, stroking Thorin's face gently as he leans forward to press a gentle kiss against his lips. "I love you a lot."

Thorin lets out a shaky breath, and pulls him close.

"Let's get some rest, yeah?"

Thorin nods, and after Bilbo gives him a gentle squeeze around the waist he settles into the bed.

Bilbo follows suit, a reassuring hand planted on Thorin's back. He waits until Thorin's breathing evens out, before allowing his own to do the same.

Sometimes, a little reassurance went a long way.


	13. Not Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo takes a little tumble.

Really, it had been an accident. Honest. There was no greater evil behind it, not at all - even if all the Dwarves were _convinced_ it had been deliberate.

All he'd done was fall down the stairs.

There weren't even that many stairs to fall down, in the first place. Bilbo supposed it didn't help that he'd taken his tumble in front of the entire company, and while he assured them that a few bruises weren't all the bad, his leg did hurt quite a fair bit.

Of course, he should have expected that Thorin wouldn't allow him to hobble around on crutches until it was properly healed.

"Honestly, Thorin." He sighs, face flushed, even as Thorin hefts him a little higher.

"I told you, Bilbo." Thorin huffs, arms thick and secure until Bilbo's thighs. "There's no way you can walk around Erebor on crutches."

Bilbo sighs, and strokes a hand through Thorin's wild hair affectionately. "Still, must you order everyone to carry me around? It's already embarrassing enough having you do it. Dwalin was practically mortified, and don't even get me started on when Gandalf visited-"

Thorin chose not to answer, making Bilbo chuckle. 

"So stubborn." He says, resting his cheek against the back of Thorin's shoulder. "You're too sweet on me, sometimes."

Thorin just sighs at him, and continues carrying him to their private quarters. When they finally arrive, he ever-so-carefully places Bilbo down on the bed and grips his face, observing every minute detail about him, right up to the tips of his pointed ears.

"I'm alright, Thorin." Bilbo says, reaching up to grip his hand.

Thorin sighs once again. "I know. I'm just worried. To think, a simple fall down the stairs could be what hurts you in a place that's meant to be home... I can't get that image out of my mind."

Bilbo clutches his hands tightly. "A little tumble won't stop me from following you around this great big place." He says, offering a small smile. "It'd take a lot more than that to get me to leave you."

Thorin lets out a shaky sound, and drops a kiss to his forehead.

"But are the piggybacks really necessary?" Bilbo asks.

"Until you are healed." Thorin replies firmly.

Bilbo sighs. "Alright, but spare Dwalin from the humiliation." 

Thorin snorts. "Fine, I'll send Kili in his place."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned~ ^^


	14. Oh, What A Strange Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belladonna observes how her son acts around other races.

When all the important families converged for the yearly meetings, Bilbo got to meet Elves. 

And Dwarves, of course, but the Elves...

Well, he was enamoured. Belladonna thought it was positively endearing, but she always told him to ask before playing, because even though they said that the Elves were children they certainly didn't look it (the height difference used to worry her, but not so much anymore).

Bilbo giggles as Belladonna places him down from her arms with another warning look. She knew that he knew not to be too loud during the meetings, and not to run around where he could hurt himself or someone else, and not to pester anyone who looked "like royalty" (they all did, but Bilbo got the message anyway). Still, she rationed, there was always Thorin to play with.

He was the Dwarven Prince, and Bilbo thought he was very pretty.

Of course, Thorin looked very affronted when Bilbo told him that the first time, like he didn't know what to say, but Bilbo had just giggled and carried on playing. Belladonna was a little relieved he hadn't gotten upset over it, but just the opposite had happened, in fact. 

Thorin was older than her Bilbo, and quite a few taller too, but they got along rather well.

At least, Belladonna thought they did. Her son was generally very energetic, always smiling and giggling and going off an adventures that made other Shire members frown down at him.

She didn't see a problem with it. Her little Bilbo was perfect as he was. 

He did attract a lot of strange friends at these meetings, though.

The Dwarven Prince seemed just as enamoured with her son as Bilbo did. It was adorable to watch the way the shy, somewhat grumpy looking Dwarf always wandered after Bilbo, steadying him when he wobbled and helping up the larger, Elvish stairs. It was just as endearing to watch her little boy bumble after the oblivious Dwarf, trying to reach for his bigger hand like a lost duckling.

"Mama, this is Riv- River- _Rivendell,_ right?" Bilbo asks, gripping her skirt in little fistfuls. 

"It is." She answers with a nod, ruffling his curly hair affectionately.

"Where's Thorin?" Bilbo asks.

She smiles to herself a little. "He should be arriving soon, my dear."

Even though Bilbo regularly forgot the names of everyone else, including his famed Elves, he never forgot Thorin.

Bilbo huffed, but she knew it wasn't directed at her so she didn't chastise him. Bilbo didn't get along with many of the Hobbit children - he had a small, select group of friends, but none of them liked other races as much as he did, so she was glad he had made such close friends with Thorin, even if they lived on other sides of the continent. Belladonna always thought that Bilbo would become a great adventurer someday, that it was his calling, even if that meant he'd leave the safety of her arms. 

The Elves from Mirkwood came to greet them before the Dwarves arrived.

The Elven Prince, Legolas, was probably the one Bilbo liked the most. Belladonna thought it might of been because of the hair, even though the King had lovely locks much the same. She sensed a rebellious sort of spirit in Legolas, and guessed that that was what drew Bilbo to him personally, aside from the long, golden hair.

Thankfully, Legolas didn't mind placating Bilbo for a little while. He probably knew Bilbo was up here, come to think of it, with those Elven senses of his. Didn't even falter in his walk as Bilbo tumbled into his legs and he bent to swing the Fauntling up into his arms.

Bilbo practically screeched with laughter, making the generally stoic Elves around him crack small smiles. The Elves from Rivendell where more accustomed to Bilbo, and to smaller beings in general, but the Elves of Mirkwood were still a little startled by such a small being.

Another Elf, Tauriel who was brought as a part of the guard, seemed to enjoy playing around with Bilbo quite a fair bit. She was the only Elf who didn't cringe when Bilbo accidentally gripped her hair in his little hands, and even let Bilbo braid flowers into the long, auburn stands once. 

Still, Belladonna was content to let Legolas entertain Bilbo for a little while. 

Eventually, when the Dwarves did arrive, Bilbo wiggled his way out of Legolas's arms and was off straight for Thorin's side. Belladonna let him go without a word, watching until her son stumbled right into Thorin's waiting arms for a reunion cuddle before turning to greet the Dwarves herself.

She almost laughed at the jealous frown on Thorin's face, even as Legolas gave him a pure, Elvish stare that had Thorin huffing defensively.

Oh, what a strange pair they did make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Stoudet~ ^^


	15. Unusually Clumsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The five times Thorin was unusually clumsy, and the one time Bilbo was.

Bilbo thought that Thorin Oakenshield was cute.

The kind of _cute_ that made him blush and squirm and wake up with Thorin's name on his lips at completely unholy hours of the night and morning.

Still, he never seemed to be able to have a conversation with Thorin, not for lack of trying. They'd stolen glances at each other for months, shared small smiles, asked friends of friends about one another. They were all but in a relationship, without even needing to say a word, and it was equal parts endearing as it was frustrating.

It was just... both of them were apparently extremely clumsy.

 

The first time they actually approached one another was in the local park. Bilbo was reading a favourite book of his, strategically placed on a bench that was perhaps a little too close to the thriving duck pond. 

He'd only just noticed Thorin out of the corner of his eyes, and was preparing to stand up as a smile stretched across his lips, only to gasp in shock as a jogger ran past and knocked Thorin right into the pond. 

And there he sat, wrist deep in mud with a characteristic lily pad stuck to the top of his head and a rather started duck flapping about him angrily. 

He'd looked practically mortified as Bilbo burst into a fit of little giggles, hiding his flushed face behind his book.

Of course, neither of them spoke a word to each other that first day. Bilbo, unfortunately, had met the end of his scheduled reading time, and Thorin appeared to want to do nothing more than crawl home and change out of his sopping wet clothes.

Of course, it didn't help that people were staring.

"Mama, why's that man in the duck pond?"

"Come along now, don't stare..."

 

The second time, Bilbo approached Thorin.

They attended the same university, and it was during a Gala day. Bilbo was helping out the Literature Club, where members had set up a little reading nook and small book sale for the less inquisitive guests. 

Thorin was helping out at the barbecue, even though he was a member of another club. He was wearing a university branded apron, and had his hair tied up in a messy bun that highlighted the wide slope of his shoulders and kept the tantalizing strands out of his dark eyes. 

Thorin noticed him approaching, and in doing so, took his eyes off of the barbecue.

Bilbo had never been quite as startled as he was when the grill suddenly burst into flames that had Thorin jumping in pure shock. A plume of black smoke rose up, making Thorin cough as he turned down the burners frantically.

"Oakenshield, what are you doing?" The supervisor shouted.

Thorin shot him a horrified look, but Bilbo just smiled, waved a little, before turning back for his reading nook. Thorin looked a little distracted, after all.

"It's charcoal, Oakenshield!" He faintly heart the supervisor yelling. _"Charcoal!_

 

The third time, it happened in the laundry room.

Bilbo hadn't known Thorin would be down there, because it was the middle of the week and late at night, so he was generally the only one who wandered down to the laundry. He kept a regular schedule, and as such he was rather shocked to see Thorin bent over a machine, meticulously pouring in the washing powder. He wore a really serious expression - brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peaking out, Bilbo couldn't help but laugh a little.

It was ridiculously cute. 

Thorin, however, was unexpectedly shocked at his presence, and dropped the whole box right into the washing machine. His knee banged into the side of it, and he let out a pained whine as the lid slammed shut and the old thing whirled to life.

They both kind of stared at the machine, wandering just how much washing powder Thorin had just dropped into it. The machines at the university were kind of old, and broke really easily, and as soon as it started to make choking noises Bilbo knew that it was _a bit not good._

"Ah." He said, as a sickening overflow of frothy soap started to seep through the cracks of the lid. 

Thorin ended up flooding the laundry with soap suds.

Bilbo didn't get his washing done that day. 

 

The fourth time, Bilbo swore he almost broke a rib from laughing too much.

There was this vending machine planted around a corner that everyone knew about, but could hardly be bothered taking the extra walk to get to. Therefore, of course, it held the best snacks that were often sold out from the other machines around the school. And that day, Bilbo was simply craving these orange-flavoured chocolates that this specific machine still often had.

Still, unfortunately, the machine was a little... temperamental. It often ate up money without spitting out anything in return, but everyone knew that if you could wiggle your hand in through the shoot and jostle the stands then the problem would be fixed. 

Still, to round the corner and see Thorin struggling against the hold of the machine had him bursting into a fit of giggles like none other.

And the speed at which Thorin's entire face, right up to the tips of his ears, turned bright _red -_

It was ridiculously cute. 

He walked over, gripping Thorin by the shoulders and hauled him back with enough strength just to pull his arm free without hurting it. Everyone, at some point or another, had been held captive by this particular vending machine, so while it wasn't all that bad in Bilbo's head, he was sure Thorin was practically mortified.

As the bell went, Bilbo lamented his lost chocolate, and gave Thorin a small smile before leaving.

Not until he'd hit the side of machine, and heard the satisfying _thunk_ of Thorin's desired snack hitting the bottom, though. 

 

The fifth time was by far the most embarrassing.

Bilbo was out shopping at the local grocery store. He had a small basket tucked in the crook of his elbow, filled with various vegetables and bread and other necessities... 

Bilbo, once again, only noticed Thorin approaching out of the corner of his eyes. He turned to greet him, sort of craving some sort of contact to finally occur, only to watch Thorin stumble and trip-

Right into a tower of produce, that goes absolutely _flying_ all over the floor.

Bilbo gasps in shock, jumping away from the loose items that come rolling towards his feet. The crash was spectacularly loud, and Thorin looked spectacularly miserable. 

 

Bilbo was fully aware that Thorin Oakenshield was effortlessly clumsy. Falling into ponds, setting things on fire, flooding laundries, getting limbs stuck in vending machines, tripping into things he really shouldn't trip into...

Well, some people were just clumsy.

The problem was, Bilbo was rather clumsy too.

He was reading in the park again, on his bench that was a little too close to the water. He was the one to spot Thorin first, this time, strolling along the path like many people did on a nice day like today.

_I want to talk to him..._

With that thought in mind, Bilbo stood up, placing his book back in his satchel. Really, what could go wrong?

Of course, quite a bit could go wrong.

Thorin noticed him approaching, and his eyes lit up in that way that made Bilbo's stomach curl in pleasure. He lifted a hand to wave, and Bilbo grinned, about to do the same, when he suddenly _tripped._

For a moment, he was sure he would go straight into the pond, and he was absolutely mortified. 

But then a hand was gripping his wrist, yanking him upright, and Bilbo found himself face to face with a certain someone's chest.

He made a small sound, and lifted his eyes to stare up at Thorin widely.

Thorin blinked down at him, almost as if he couldn't believe he'd rescued Bilbo from falling face-first into the duck pond.

Bilbo couldn't help but grin at him, surging on to the tips of his toes to press a smiling kiss to Thorin's lips.

Maybe they were both ridiculously clumsy, and maybe they hadn't said a word to each other, but Bilbo was pretty sure he was in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned~ ^^
> 
> I actually had a lot of fun doing this one, I haven't enjoyed writing this much lately~ It's the first time I've tried the 5 + 1 trope, as well ^w^


	16. Anything You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo work in the same library.

Bilbo and Thorin had been friends for a long time, although their friendship didn't properly pick up speed until they both began working at the same library.

It was sort of like a rivalry, though it was never spiteful. Thorin had a height advantage over Bilbo, but Bilbo was more efficient. They worked well together, and it helped that they'd eventually ended up in a relationship. 

Still, Thorin's shenanigans often got Bilbo huffing in frustration every now and then.

 _"Just_ because you're taller than me-!" He cries, gripping Thorin's shirt tightly in an attempt to pull himself up higher. He was on his toes as it was, and Thorin was still at least half a head taller than him. It was utterly unfair.

Thorin lets out a laugh, thoroughly amused. "You're so short, Bilbo, my love! Have you stopped growing?"

Bilbo growls at him, and swats him across the chest with just enough bite to make Thorin pout at him. "I asked you for _help,_ Thorin." Bilbo whines, stretching up just a little bit higher in an attempt to reach the book Thorin held above his head. "I need to scan that book to finish my rounds!"

Thorin just laughs at him, waving the book around a little. "You're so little!" He grins, cheeks flushed. "Aren't you just the cutest?"

Bilbo just frowns at him, putting on the expression he knew worked best against Thorin's teasing. "Please, Thorin?"

Thorin quirks a brow at him. "And what do I get in turn for helping you, Bilbo?"

The way Thorin said his name has his stomach curling. Cheeks flushed, Bilbo stares up at him. "You don't need to help me to get anything you want, Thorin." He replies.

Thorin gives him a charming, albeit salacious grin, and ducks his head to claim Bilbo's lips in a kiss that has him hot and squirming. "I like to hear that." He murmurs against Bilbo's lips, thoroughly aware of just how much he's affected Bilbo, and all too proud in himself for it, in a way that makes Bilbo a little flustered. 

He presses the book into Bilbo's hands, and Bilbo grips it, glad to have something to hold onto other than his frustratingly handsome lover. "You're ridiculous." Bilbo tells him.

Thorin grins, still so close that Bilbo can feel his smile as it stretches across his lips. "Nothing wrong with that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned~ ^^


	17. Fresh Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo shivers at the feeling that races down his spine, and tries not to squirm. Thorin knows exactly what stimulation to his wings did, and exactly how it affected him, and often used that knowledge to its fullest advantage.

Bilbo let out a strange, grumpy sort of sound as he stretched across Thorin, who'd taken up the majority of the blanket they laid on sometime after Bilbo had drifted off into sleep. He was rather comfortable to lay on, so Bilbo hadn't complained.

"Awake now, love?" Thorin teased, running his fingers through Bilbo's hair in an all too pleasant way. 

Bilbo hums in reply, snuffling his nose along Thorin's neck to find his preferred spot to stuff his face into. 

Thorin runs his fingers over the top of Bilbo's head, following the curve down the back of his neck, making Bilbo shiver. His fingers tangle in the ends of his curls for a moment, before travelling further down. 

"If you want to do it, then just do it." Bilbo mumbles, drowsy, as his back arches ever so slightly. 

Thorin's fingers drum against his back, before dipping to trace along his shoulder blades towards the junction where his wings sprout from his skin. 

Bilbo sighs at the gentle caresses, the tension in his shoulders easing away as he slumps against Thorin, boneless. 

Thorin makes a delightedly proud noise, and spreads his fingers through Bilbo's feathers. 

Bilbo shivers at the feeling that races down his spine, and tries not to squirm. Thorin knows exactly what stimulation to his wings did, and exactly how it affected him, and often used that knowledge to its fullest advantage. 

"How long was I asleep?" Bilbo asks.

"Not long." Thorin answers. "You only dozed."

"Couldn't help it." Bilbo murmurs, nuzzling into Thorin's neck comfortably. "It's so warm."

Thorin chuckles.

They'd do this every now and again - this relaxation time, just between the two of them, when Bilbo could spread his wings freely and Thorin could be relieved from his kingly duties. They always left the halls of Erebor, just for a little while, to bask in the sun and grass. Bilbo was still a Hobbit, after all, and sometimes the walls of Erebor could be constricting, no matter how much he loved the great kingdom. 

But when it was just the two of them, like this, Bilbo felt freer than he ever had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions are still welcome~


	18. A Tale To Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is shocked to realise that his nephew's imaginary friend is not, in fact, imaginary.

Thorin was very actively involved in the lives of his nephews, Kili and Fili. He was a good caregiver, he'd like to believe - maintained an active role in their school lives, encouraged sport and socialisation, made sure they ate properly and never fought too much...

Still, he was rather surprised to find that their imaginary friend was, in fact, not imaginary. 

Thorin had honestly thought Frodo wasn't real, that he was a figment of Kili and Fili's wild imaginations. He'd never been more confronted than when he was at the sight of an unnaturally tiny child with big, bright eyes and a curly mop of hair standing in between his nephews. 

Not to mention he was so _quiet._ Thorin was used to his nephews being rowdy and loud and incessantly giggly, but Frodo was just... quiet. Just smiled quieted, introduced himself quietly, played quietly.

It was so unnerving.

Not to mention, Frodo's caregiver (incidentally, also his Uncle) was undeniably attractive. Drop dead gorgeous, really. All welcoming smiles and soft curls and small, capable hands that Thorin ached to cradle in his own.

Bilbo Baggins, was his name. 

And Thorin was a complete wreck when he came over with Frodo in tow for a play date.

Somehow, by the grace of the gods, he didn't make a fool of himself. In fact, he got along quite well with Bilbo, which only served to make him more infatuated with the shorter man. There was just so much about Bilbo that was interesting.

Still, Thorin couldn't believe he'd thought Frodo was an imaginary friend for so long. He was such a sweet, polite boy, and Bilbo was blessed to have a child as quiet as him. His own nephews were quite the handful, though he'd never give them up, not even for the world. 

Maybe one day he'd tell Bilbo about his mix up, if they stayed in contact.

It would sure make a good tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Zeiva~
> 
> So short //wheezes


	19. Something To Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over and over and over again, he didn't remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili/Kili/Bilbo/Thorin implied

The Durin's were immortal. They aged, but eventually stopped, and then they lived. 

They found comfort in each other. Living as they did, if that was what it could be called, it was impossible not to. They had a connection, a bond, that was something more than love but less than infinity. It was indescribable. 

Still, they somehow had room in them for another person to fill.

At first, none of them were willing to love Bilbo. Thorin thought him weak, Kili and Fili thought him something else, something undesirable. Something mortal.

Somehow, Bilbo proved them wrong, over and over.

In many lives, Bilbo appeared to them. As an infant, a child, a teen, an adult, an elder. 

He didn't remember them, because that was how life worked. Like a flower, he grew, budded, blossomed and wilted, never to be exactly the same again.

And yet, somewhere, they fell for him, like a comet falls to earth.

Only, they were unwilling to be burnt apart by Bilbo's atmosphere.

It almost became a game, in the end.

They were so deep into it that the pain of losing Bilbo, over and over and over and over, it just didn't register. They followed his soul all across the world, drawn to it like they were drawn to nothing else.

Whoever found him first got his first kiss, that was how it worked. The Durin's, they didn't need to be with each other permanently, not anymore. As they lived, the pain of separation transformed into something else, something that was comforting, because even if an ocean were between them, they would always be close.

It was different with Bilbo. They chased him, had to, because they craved his company more than anything.

Each time he's reborn, they bring him into the relationship. It used to be something Bilbo rejected, something he was hesitant to partake in. 

Somehow, over time, they'd conditioned his soul into ignoring that hesitance. To just doing what he wanted, knowing it was safe, even if he was confused.

It was a lot easier, now. When they found him, watched him grow, they'd slip into his life for a better view. Bilbo was always flowering, always watering other plants. He was truly perfect to them.

It became painful, to have him slip from their grasp, over and over and over and over.

"I just want to be with him." 

They'd all say it, huddled together, trying to chase away the sharp sting of Bilbo's death.

Seeing him die, it never became easy. They were attached to him, hopeful that maybe this time he wouldn't leave them.

He always left them.

Until, he suddenly didn't.

Thorin found him first, in that life.

Or, more accurately, Bilbo found Thorin.

They met in a park, when the tree leaves were green and people came and went as freely as they wanted, without a care in the world. Thorin knew he was getting close to Bilbo, could feel it deep inside. He hadn't expected Bilbo to find him.

Bilbo had thrown his arms around Thorin, letting out the happiest noise Thorin had ever heard. His arms, his small hands and lovely, honey-coloured curls, it was all the same, and there he was.

"Bilbo." Thorin says, eyes wide with something heart-wrenchingly devastating. 

Bilbo wore the grin he wore after spending years of his life with them, a grin like sunshine. "Thorin!" He replies.

"You know me." Thorin says.

"I know you!" Bilbo answers.

"And..."

"And our lovers." He answers matter-of-factly.

"How?"

Bilbo just grinned, shrugging his shoulders, all nervous energy and red-filled cheeks. "I remember."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by a lovely anon on tumblr~ ^^


	20. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spend a quiet moment alone.

Thorin's hand was heavy and warm as it traced mindless patterns across Bilbo's stomach. Small puffs of air tickled the back of his neck, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"I can see why you find this so relaxing." Thorin murmurs, pressing his cheek against the top of Bilbo's head.

Bilbo hums in reply. 

Above them, a world of stars and planets and moons shimmered. It was a clear night - the mountain air made for easy viewing, and with little clouds, Bilbo could see all the constellations his father used to tell him tales about. They were truly beautiful.

"You should join me more often." Bilbo says, gripping Thorin's hand in his own tightly.

"I will."

He smiles a little. There was no hesitation in Thorin's voice, no wavering, and there never was, not anymore. Not when it came to him.

The grass beneath him was a little prickly, but he was laid half upon Thorin, so the discomfort was easy to disregard. "Do you like the stars?"

"Yes." Thorin answers, "They make quite the view."

"You sound tired."

"I am tired." Thorin sighs, pulling Bilbo a little closer. "It's been a long week."

"How are the delegations...?"

"They're going well." Thorin says.

"That's good." Bilbo answers, rubbing Thorin's chest soothingly. "I hope you'll have some time to yourself soon."

"I'd rather spend time with you."

"You know what I mean." Bilbo can't help but smile again, faintly flattered. 

Thorin chuckles, the kind of deep, sated chuckle that made his chest vibrate beneath Bilbo's palm. "I like spending time with you." He says. "You relax me."

Bilbo huffs lightly. "If you say so, love."

Thorin grins, and presses a kiss to Bilbo's cheek, the kind of kiss that is all too tender and designed to distract him.

"Now, now." Bilbo teases, pushing Thorin's face away. "None of that business. Back to stargazing."

Thorin gives him a look akin to a pout, but settles down. "Later, then, I will have you." He mutters.

Bilbo chuckles, but doesn't deny it, and he can all but feel Thorin's returning grin as he slumps to the ground, content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attended Supanova today, so it's something super short because I am super tired--
> 
> On the other hand, there were so many attractive Avengers cosplayers that I believe I may have gone to heaven.


	21. Some Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days, Bilbo just refused to be put down.

Thorin liked working at the local nursery. It payed well, and had good hours. The kids were cute, too, and it allowed him to spend more time with his rowdy nephews.

Still, there were just some days when everything went crazy.

It was raining. Of course it had to be raining. Rain meant that the children couldn't play outside like they usually did every afternoon, right after their scheduled nap time when all their energy had been restored.

"Uncle Thorin, Mister Dwalin _promised!"_ Kili cried indignantly, reaching for the end of Thorin's shirt with both hands. "I wanna play outside!"

"Not today, Kili." Thorin groused, patting his nephew's head as he tried to safely carry the piles of glitter-covered paper balanced across the inside of his arms. The drying rack was so close, yet so far.

"But Uncle!"

"Come here, you little tyke." Dwalin suddenly came to his rescue, appearing behind Kili to swoop the energetic child up into his arms. "Stop bothering yer Uncle and come bother the rest of us, yeah?"

Kili looked torn between pouting and screeching in joy at his sudden position so high above the rest of the children.

Thorin shot Dwalin a thankful look as he carefully slid the children's artworks from his arms and onto the drying rack with minimal loss of glitter. 

"Seems like you've still got a little follower." Dwalin advises quietly, glancing down behind Thorin before making off with Kili swung up above his head.

Thorin turns, and sighs at the teary-eyed toddler behind him. He crouches, and opens up his arms. "Come here, Bilbo."

Bilbo sniffled, but cuddled up against Thorin's chest and hardly protested when Thorin lifted him up into his arms. 

Out of all the children, Bilbo was usually the most energetic, right on par with Fili and Kili. He was effortlessly friendly, and always giggly. He hardly ever cried. 

Some days, though, he just refused to be put down. Wouldn't even let anyone else carry him, other than Thorin. Not even Ori. Thorin didn't understand it, but he always felt bad and somewhat guilty when he put Bilbo down only to be looked up at with blotchy cheeks, watery eyes and pouted, cherubic lips. 

He was a cute kid, and was able to tear at heartstrings with just a single look. 

"What's wrong, huh?" Thorin used a knuckle to swipe away the tears across Bilbo's chubby cheeks, bouncing him a little. "Why so teary today, Bilbo?"

Bilbo makes a small whining noise, clutching chubby fistfuls of Thorin's dark hair. 

Thorin sighs, and rubs his back soothingly.

Thorin liked working at the nursery, but some days were just crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of people suggested more child!fic, and DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned sent me a prompt that fit so this happened~ I really like writing toddler fics atm haha~ ^^


	22. Quiet In The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo was never more glad that he had left his Hobbit hole as he was now, in that moment, as he found Thorin playing with their son.

Bilbo woke up with a yawn on his lips and a cosy bed all to himself. It was sort of strange not to have Thorin persistently nosing at him to wake, or to the sounds of Kili and Fili parading Frodo around Erebor, or even to the chubby fingers of his son, Frerin, demanding his attention.

He wasn't all too panicked, though. There was not a single Dwarf in all of the Lonely Mountain that would allow the royal children to be hurt, let alone kidnapped.

At first, he was a little worried for Frodo, when the Fauntling first arrived to be taken into his care. Bilbo was unsure if he would be comfortable around the Dwarves, in a place that was so unlike the rolling hills of the Shire.

Of course, he'd fit in splendidly. Absolutely adored all the Dwarves - especially Kili and Fili.

When the baby came along, everyone was elated. Again, Bilbo worried about Frodo, but the child absolutely adored Frerin, and was very protective of the chubby little thing. 

No one, however, was happier about their family arrangements than Thorin. He loved Frodo the instant he saw him, and didn't dare do anything to even make the Hobbit child sniffle. It was utterly endearing to watch how well they got along.

Baby Frerin was the latest addition to their family. He was named after Thorin's late brother, and when Bilbo had told Thorin of his naming choice, Thorin had cried. Bilbo had never been so sure of anything in his life as he was sure of naming his child.

Still, waking up without varying members of his family waiting to greet him was a little strange. 

After he'd gotten changed and brushed his errant curls, making a note to ask Thorin to braid them as he usually would in the mornings, he made his way towards the dining room. He supposed he was a little late for breakfast, but the sight that greeted him was worth it.

Thorin had baby Frerin carefully tucked into the crook of his arm, head of dark, curly strands securely held. He was holding a carved ram, courtesy of Bofur, just above Frerin's honey-coloured eyes. Frerin was giggling in delight, chubby hands reaching for the toy only to grab fistfuls of Thorin's dark hair, and even though he tugged, all Thorin did was smile lovingly.

Sometimes, he thought of what his life would have been like if he hadn't ventured out of his Hobbit hole after a company of Dwarves and a kooky old wizard.

He was very glad that he had.


	23. Still Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets lost in Erebor.

Bilbo may have been a little lost. He'd been charged by Thorin with entertaining Kili and Fili during his meetings, so that the boys didn't get into too much trouble, and he'd somehow managed to let them convince him to play hide-and-seek.

He probably shouldn't have agreed, in hindsight. He hardly knew his way around Erebor in the first place, but he just couldn't say no to them, especially not when they ganged up on him with pleading, pouting expressions.

Realistically, if he wandered around for long enough he was sure to come across a Dwarf or a familiar doorway or something of the sort soon enough. As long as he didn't wind up in a series of dead ends, he was sure he'd find his way back.

Of course, he should have expected that the Dwarves, particularly those from both the company and the line of Durin, would turn absolutely crazed at the fact that he was lost. At a later date, he would look back on the whole thing and laugh, because it truly was quite comical. 

Still, it had been cold and a little dreary to wander around Erebor without someone to keep him company. He had become quite lost, in fact, so lost that it took the Dwarves quite some time to actually locate him. 

It was Fili who found him - spotted him from an upper balcony. 

"Bilbo!" Fili cried, leaning across the railing. "Bilbo, are you alright?"

"A bit lost, actually!" He called back.

"Stay right there!" Fili demanded. "I'll be right down!"

It wasn't like Bilbo was going to go wandering off anywhere, so he patiently waited for Fili to come gather him up.

"I'm so sorry!" Fili cried as he gripped Bilbo by the arms tightly. "Uncle is going mad, he thinks you've been lost forever!"

It certainly had been chaotic to return to the Dwarves, Bilbo thought. They were constantly worried about someone of his stature and strength living in Erebor, considering most Dwarves were both stronger and taller than he was, not to mention more durable to the cold of the mountain halls. 

Thorin had been the most concerned of them all. He wanted Bilbo to fit in, and to feel at home, even though Erebor was so very different from the Shire. Bilbo hadn't felt all too out of sorts, honestly, not after spending so long with the company. Leaving the Dwarves, even to return to his Bag-End and armchair and fireplace... it didn't seem worth it anymore.

"Don't ever let them trick you into it again." Thorin said firmly, arms embracing Bilbo tight enough to be somewhat smothering. "I've never been so worried."

Bilbo patted his back gently. "It was just an accident, love."

Thorin huffed, and used a hand to tilt Bilbo's head back far enough for him to plant a kiss on the Hobbit's forehead. "Erebor is a big place."

"I know."

"You get lost easily here."

"No more than you do in the Shire."

Thorin chuckled, and after one last, lingering kiss to his forehead, he released Bilbo from his tight grip. "Be careful."

Bilbo laughed, but he was vaguely flattered at Thorin's insistent worry. It made his stomach feel all warm and fluttery. "I will be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned~ ^^


	24. A Caring Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets a little sick.

Bilbo sighs, feeling oddly ill as he rested his head against the back of the couch. He was tired, and worn out, and his stomach was making odd noises every now and then that was becoming rather concerning. 

"Bilbo, love? I'm home."

He lifts his head, humming in reply as his eyes searched out Thorin's reassuring form. "In here." He croaks around a yawn that forces it's way out of his lips.

"Are you alright?" Thorin asks, brows furrowing in worry as he drops his keys on the coffee table and sidles up to Bilbo's side. His hand, large and warm, lifts up to press against Bilbo's forehead. "You're a little warm..."

"Don't feel too well." Bilbo admits. "I think I'm getting ill."

Thorin sighs, and pulls him into a gentle embrace. "Why didn't you call me? I would have come home earlier."

"Didn't want to bother you at work..."

"It's no bother." Thorin says, pressing a loving kiss to Bilbo's forehead as he brushes his fingers through Bilbo's somewhat tangled curls. "Do you want something to eat now? I think an early night is in order."

"Alright." Bilbo concedes without much thought on the matter. He really wanted to sleep, but realistically, he knew that eating would probably make him feel a little bit better. 

"I'll go make some soup." Thorin says. "Lay back."

Bilbo allows himself to be moved into a more conformable position on the couch, with a pillow carefully tucked under his head. Thorin takes the time to pull off his shoes and socks for him, before pulling the knitted blanket they kept on the couch over his legs. 

"Chicken or tomato soup?" Thorin asks.

"Chicken." Bilbo answers quietly.

Thorin strokes his head comfortingly. "Try to stay awake for a little while longer, alright, my dear? I'll be back in ten, just call if you need anything."

"Thank you." Bilbo mumbles miserably. "Sorry..."

"You have nothing to apologise for." Thorin presses another soft kiss to his forehead, before standing. "I'll take care of you."


	25. During The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is cold.

"Bilbo? Are you awake?"

Bilbo let out a humming noise, blinking his eyes open. For a moment they ached - it was the middle of the night, and so dark he could hardly see Thorin's outline at his bedroom door. 

"Thorin?" He asks, lifting his head from his pillow only to shiver as the night air chilled down the back of his neck.

"Can I come in?" Thorin asks.

Bilbo's brows furrowed in worry. Thorin was a strong person, with a strong will and enough confidence to fill three people over, but in that moment he sounded tired and maybe even a little scared. 

"Of course you can." Bilbo says.

Thorin shuffles into the room, and doesn't waste a moment before slipping in under the covers as quickly as he can. His skin was cold where it pressed against Bilbo's, but his breath was warm as it puffed out from in between his lips. 

"Are you alright?" Bilbo whispers quietly as he tucks his arms around Thorin's waist as tightly as he can.

"Just cold." Thorin whispers back, but Bilbo knows he's lying. 

He hums, and presses his nose against Thorin's cheek contemplatively. "Feel okay?"

Thorin tenses for a moment, before sinking against the mattress and pulling Bilbo achingly closer. "Cold." He repeats.

It takes Bilbo a moment, but he eventually understands. He'd felt what Thorin was feeling, in the past, too. It wasn't a nice feeling, and in the dark, it was only amplified over and over until it was the only thing in his head.

Thorin was just lonely. 

That was something Bilbo could fix. "Wanna stay here tonight?" He asks.

Thorin takes a moment, before nodding. Bilbo can feel his hair ticking his cheeks.

"It is kind of cold." He agrees, voice soft. 

Thorin smiles faintly. "A little."

"Not anymore?"

"Not anymore."


	26. In A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tells Thorin what he wants to name their unborn child.

"Thorin, can you come here for a second?"

"What is it, love?"

Bilbo let out a huff as he stepped off the stool he was standing on, hands on his hips as he wipes sweat off his forehead. "Is the curtain rod straight? I can't tell."

"It is." Thorin nods, swooping in to press a kiss to his sweaty cheek. "It looks wonderful, Bilbo. You needn't stress so much."

"It has to be perfect." Bilbo says, trying not to whine. "I want it to look perfect." 

"It does." Thorin insists. "It's straight, and even on both sides. The curtains are soft, but won't let in too much light when closed, and the colour matches the walls perfectly. It's not too feminine, not too masculine... it's wonderful, Bilbo."

Bilbo gives him a wide-eyed, hopeful look. "Are you sure? You're not just saying so?"

"I'm sure." Thorin says firmly, pressing a kiss to Bilbo's lips. "It's absolutely wonderful, I can't believe you've changed this room into something so cosy and warm." 

Bilbo lets out a content sigh, and glances at the windows again. "I'm glad you like it."

"Now will you please take a break?" Thorin asks. "Surely you must be tired, if I'm exhausted."

"Alright." Bilbo concedes, because his back was starting to ache a little. "Want some tea?"

"I'll make it." Thorin offers, a hand on the small of Bilbo's back as he leads the shorter man through their home. "You just sit there and look pretty."

Bilbo laughs quietly, but doesn't protest. He takes a seat at their little kitchen table, stretching out leisurely. Being pregnant was taxing, at times, but Thorin was very accommodating, and very supportive. He didn't stop Bilbo from doing things (like climbing atop of stools to screw in curtain rods), and instead just encouraged him to be extra cautious. It was very relaxing to have a partner such as Thorin, Bilbo thought. 

"Have you thought on names anymore?" Thorin asks as he slides a cup of tea into Bilbo's waiting hands.

Bilbo hums contemplatively, and takes a sip of the tea. It was sweetened with honey, just how he liked. "A little."

"Still think it's a boy?" Thorin chuckles.

Bilbo snorts. "I know it's a boy." He says, patting his rounded stomach gently. "I can tell."

They'd decided to leave the gender of their child a surprise until the birth, but Bilbo was sure. He didn't know how, but he was sure.

"And?" Thorin asks. "Any suggestions?"

Bilbo hums again, nodding. "I want to name him Frerin."

Thorin lowers his cup, eyes wide and imploring as they stare at Bilbo. 

Bilbo just gives him a lazy smile, shrugging. "I want to name him Frerin." He repeats. 

Thorin sucked in a shaky breath, looking a little wet in the eyes.

"Don't cry!" Bilbo laughs, smiling widely.

Thorin laughs too, wiping at his eyes. "I can't help it!" He says. "When you just come out and say something like that, it's going to make me cry."

Bilbo grins, feeling light in the chest and undeniably joyful. 

Thorin stands, and comes around to press soft kisses across his face. "If that's what you want, I'd be honoured." 

Bilbo smiles faintly, basking in Thorin's attention.

He was definitely sure he was having a boy.


	27. Maybe, Maybe Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's time in the goblin tunnels goes a little differently.

Bilbo sighed as he shifted his wings against his back, stretching them back and forth to soothe the aches building up in his shoulders. He hadn't flown for a long time, and knew there was no possible chance for him to do so in any near future.

The company didn't know of his wings, and he planned to keep it that way - he was already different enough, was he not? No need to add extra ammunition, one could say. 

Still, it was a bit of a shock to his system to come on this strange journey. He would have never agreed to come on it, if Thorin hadn't been his match. In fact, there was no chance at all that he could have ever left Bag-End and the Shire if Thorin had not appeared.

It was silly, and completely unrespectable of him, but he'd done it anyone.

To be honest, he was unsure if Thorin was truly his match or not. While it didn't make sense - Thorin was a Dwarf, after all, and royalty at that - it also sort of did, because Bilbo _should_ have met his match by now, like every other Hobbit in the Shire.

Most assumed his match had died as a child, but Bilbo had never believed them. Ignored the ridicule, and the pitiful looks he received, because there was something in him that just refused to believe his match never existed. 

Maybe that something was Thorin.

However, he never expected the journey to be so dangerous. Wargs, trolls, even Elves... it truly was an adventure, if one would call it that.

He also hadn't expected Thorin to resent him so much. He knew he wasn't much to look at now that he was older, and he had gotten a little soft in his luxury... and he wasn't a Dwarf. It was still painful to bear Thorin's ill looks. 

After the thunder battle, Bilbo had truly believed Thorin would never come to even tolerate his presence. He was being nothing but a hindrance to these Dwarves.

Maybe he should have listened to the Hobbits in the Shire. 

Still, the goblins were pushing it.

Hobbit's... there was something about their wings that didn't react well to creatures like goblins and Orcs and trolls. Their wings became fragile, as if they were sick, and their strength faded rather easily. It was like being poisoned.

He hardly thought about the Dwarves as he crouched to the floor, avoiding the rush of goblins scrambling around him. He didn't notice that Nori saw him.

He thought he could get away before the presence of the goblins started hurting his wings. 

He was wrong.

The goblin that dropped in front of him tumbled them into the ravine. Bilbo hit the walls and ledges as he went down.

Dizzy and bruised, he woke in a pile of mushrooms, only to be cornered by some monstrosity called _Gollum._

That thing, whatever it was, was utterly possessed. Obsessed with eating Hobbits and goblins and fish and bats - Bilbo had never fought against something so fervently. 

It was only with scratch marks down his arms, a ruined waistcoat and a bleeding bite mark torn into his shoulder much too close to his wings (of which had burst through his coat at some point) for his comfort that he finally managed to find a way out.

The Dwarves weren't all that far away, but they didn't notice him, not until he made himself known. Not until they'd said hurtful things about him.

He supposed he deserved it. 

"It's important." Thorin insists, after Bilbo had explained why he came back, why he wanted them to have a home like he'd had. "How did you escape?"

"Why did you leave the group in the first place?" Nori says, eyes hard.

Bilbo stepped back, swallowing a little. "Um, well you see- you see..."

"It was for the best." Gandalf suddenly says. "Hobbits and goblins don't mix."

Nori narrows his eyes a little. "Goblins and Dwarves don't, either."

"Bilbo, what happened to your back?" Fili asks, coming up behind Bilbo to place a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Your coat is all torn- there's blood here."

Bilbo jumps, trying to escape his grip. "It's nothing-"

"There's a _bite_ mark." Kili exclaims, peering over his brother's shoulder.

"Bite?" Gandalf repeats, straightening up.

Bilbo didn't want to explain, and felt too exposed - but then the sound of Wargs had interrupted them, and they'd been cornered on the cliff side.

During that battle, many things had gone through Bilbo's head. Azog, the white Orc, was still alive, and they were hanging from a tree, surrounded by fire and growling Wargs, and Thorin was going to have his head cut off...

Bilbo didn't even think of it, didn't stop his wings from flaring out to help put at least a little extra strength into his attack. He hardly thought as his blade plunged into that Orc.

That battle... he couldn't comprehend it, but he remembered the feeling of flying.

The Eagles, they were beautiful.

He laid on the back of one of the magnificent birds, wings pushed up to feel the air spread apart his feathers rhythmically. It was unnerving how much it soothed him, how it swept away the burning of the bite mark and the feeling of sickness that pooled in his stomach.

And then they were landing, and the Eagle was waiting for him to dismount, but he couldn't, his legs and his arms and his wings didn't feel connected to him anymore.

"The Halfling." Were Thorin's first words upon waking.

It reassured Bilbo a little. Maybe he was worth something after all.

Hands were then pulling him from the eagle, pressing cloth into the bite mark and gently brushing his limp wings away.

"It's the creature that bit him - Hobbits can't stand their presence. If Bilbo had kept with the group, he likely wouldn't have survived." Gandalf says, but he sounds blurry, and far away. "Only an Elf can heal it permanently, but I can chase away the illness for now..."

And then magic had flowed into him, ebbing away the darkness crowding in his eyes and turning the pain into nothing more than a dull ache.

Thorin had told him off as soon as he'd looked up. Told him that he'd been nothing of a hindrance, and Bilbo could hardly bare to listen.

_"I've never been so wrong in all my life."_

And then Thorin's arms, so warm and strong, had pulled him into the warmest embrace he'd ever had the pleasure to be a part of.

And he'd held on, and Thorin hadn't cared, had held him back just as tightly.

And he thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd found his home again.


	28. Out Of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo may not be able to eat the apple, but that didn't mean somebody out of Eden couldn't.

The chasm was dark, but Bilbo wasn't frightened. This wasn't his Shire - his Eden. This was something much deeper, much darker, and yet... 

There was still a perfectly rosy apple cradled in his hand.

Thorin appeared like a shadow. His presence was physically noticeable, but Bilbo didn't react. He was accustomed to Thorin, to the way darkness clung to him in tendrils and flickering flames. It was enrapturing to watch.

The man eyed the apple in his hands, lip curling back ever so slightly. This thing, whatever it could be called, was almost a routine by now - an addiction, and oh how Bilbo craved it. 

He couldn't eat the apple. It was forbidden, no matter how insignificant the single piece of fruit was. 

Still, that made him want it all the more.

Thorin swept towards him, fur-lined cloak disturbing the shadows around him as if they were truly tangible. 

Bilbo held out the apple expectantly.

Thorin glanced at it again, but dutifully took it, as he always did. Bilbo watched anxiously as Thorin brought the fruit to his lips, and almost as if he were putting on a show, he opened his mouth and took a deliciously full bite.

Bilbo tried not to whine. Even though he was clearly impatient, Thorin took his sweet old time, taking bite by delicate bite, even though Bilbo _knew_ he could eat faster than that, for goodness sake-

"Hurry." Bilbo whimpers, inching closer.

Thorin turned away, completely ignoring him as he took another bite of the apple. He'd expressed his displeasure for the fruit before - it really only appealed to those who simply where not permitted to have it - but Bilbo knew he rather enjoyed what came after he'd eaten it.

Of course, Bilbo rather enjoyed it too, and it simply wasn't fair for him to feel no discomfort at all from this little arrangement. Therefore, Thorin saw it fit that he taunt Bilbo like this, and even though he did it every single time Bilbo brought him an apple, it never became easier to witness. 

"Thorin." He whines, pawing at Thorin's arm insistently, even though he could probably hardly feel it through his armour.

Thorin's hand slipped up to cradle the back of his head, and the touch was gentle for a moment. But then his fingers tightened in Bilbo's hair, yanking his head back to press a burning kiss to his lips.

Bilbo moaned in surprise, lips parting willingly. Thorin slipped his tongue right in, all but dominating Bilbo with nothing more than a single hand twisted through his hair. 

The taste of apple in Thorin's mouth made Bilbo squirm, knees shaking. A low heat built up in his stomach, and all he wanted was for Thorin to just _take_ him, take whatever he wanted, but Thorin liked teasing him too much. 

"Thorin, please." Bilbo begged, gripping him closer as tightly as he could. _"Thorin."_

The grin that slowly stretched across Thorin's lips was purely devious. He gripped Bilbo's hair a little tighter, asserting his control, and it was all Bilbo could do but to willingly submit. 

"Patience, my darling." Thorin purrs, eyes dark, pupils wide as he licks the taste of apples into Bilbo's mouth. "The night has just begun."


	29. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili's lovers react differently to his nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili/Fili/Bilbo/Thorin implied~

Sometimes, Kili had nightmares. Terrible ones. 

He felt ashamed of them - people only expected little kids to have nightmares, dreams about monsters and robbers and other strange creatures like the bogey man. People his age should have grown out of them by now.

Still, those sorts of thoughts didn't stop them from coming. He dreamt of killing and orcs and the deaths of his lovers... it was all very traumatic. 

Most of the time, Fili was the one to wake him, a hand on his shoulder and on his waist.

"It's okay, brother." Fili's voice was soothing and his lips comforting as they traced along his wet cheeks. "Go back to sleep."

Sometimes, just his brother wasn't enough. When they eventually moved into Thorin's quarters (because the bed was large enough and Bilbo was there, now, too) it was Thorin who began waking him.

Kili supposed that Thorin was a light sleeper because of the way he'd lived up until now - always on the run, always travelling, countless night watches... He was adjusted to wake at the slightest noise, at the slightest whimper that fell from between Kili's lips. 

He'd cradle Kili the closest, arms thick and strong and protective as he held Kili until Kili fell back asleep. He'd whisper uncharacteristically sweet things the entire time, mostly in Khuzdul, and it relaxed Kili like nothing else. 

Sometimes, when Kili was sleeping in between Fili and Bilbo, it was the Hobbit that was awaken by his nightmares. 

And Bilbo was the gentlest. He'd cradle Kili's head and stroke his hair and kiss his forehead and his cheeks and his lips and even the tip of his nose, and whisper sweet nothings and stories of the Shire and everything he thought could possibly distract Kili from the residual terror flowing through his veins.

Kili's nightmares weren't so scary with his lovers there willing to comfort him.


	30. Thrush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrushes have the nicest voices.

The Shire was oddly silent the day the Dwarves arrived.

It unsettled Bilbo. There was always a knocking sound echoing throughout the trees of the Shire, always chirping and tweeting and sweet singing to grace one's ears. 

Of course, the thrushes had the prettiest voices. Bilbo was a thrush - inherited it from his mother, who had one of the loveliest voices in the Shire. He didn't sing often, but he liked to listen to the wild thrushes. The birds loved to sit on his shoulders, and always flittered around excitedly when he chose to spread his wings for a day. 

Bilbo supposed all Hobbits had that connection with birds, even the ones that weren't thrushes. He knows he's seen the kingfishers down by the lake on many occasions, entertaining the wild birds and feeding them bits and bobs from their picnic.

Still, all was quiet the day the Dwarves arrived on his doorstep.

He hadn't expected them at all - it was all Gandalf's fault, truly. 

Still, he listened to their story and their ridiculous songs and put up with them eating all that was edible in his house. They were intriguing, he begrudgingly admitted. 

However, he was rather shocked at their reactions to the knowledge that he was a thrush. 

Apparently, instructions on the map they had said to _"stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks"_ and Bilbo had a sneaking suspicion that Gandalf hadn't chosen just any Hobbit. 

Still, it could hardly be a coincidence. 

Bilbo would of liked to think he had a matter in the choice - of going on the journey or not, that is - but there was something telling him he should, deep in his soul.

Or rather, _someone._

And that person just happened to be Thorin Oakenshield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an idea I had.


End file.
